Dark Shadows in Sunnydale
by kaelma
Summary: When a mysterious spirit takes up residence in the UC Sunnydale library, Giles recruits help from the spirit's former home - Collinsport. Buffy fans are not strictly required to be familiar with the Dark Shadows TV show to understand the story. Dark Shadows fans do need to be at least familiar with Buffy's universe.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This story is set very early in season five of _Buffy_. The Scoobies have met Dracula, but this is before Glory shows up and the truth about Dawn is discovered.

* * *

Something was haunting the UC Sunnydale library. Specifically, something was haunting the east wing on the second floor. After the first couple days, students knew to avoid the area, or quickly adjusted to the regular occurrence of books flying through the air and disembodied wailing. College students can be a resilient bunch, especially when your school is in a town on a Hellmouth. Still, it was becoming increasingly annoying. To make matters worse, the traditional methods of contact and attempted exorcism had resulted in nothing but a peal of bubbly laughter.

"There are so many other things I would rather be doing than getting a ghost out of the library," Buffy muttered.

She, Giles and Willow were clustered around a map of the country that Willow had set out on table. They were on the first floor of the library, with the hope of avoiding any disturbances, or causing them. They'd found a spot without many other students, and the few scattered around were too focused on their own work to pay them any mind.

"It's better to get it out before it becomes more than just a nuisance," said Giles in a hushed voice, "What is this all about, Willow?" he gestured to the map.

"Well, since we haven't been able to figure out anything about the spirit and it isn't responding to the usual ghost-repelling stuff, I thought it would help if we knew where it came from," she placed a small crystal on Sunnydale's rough location on the map, "This spell should illumine an area on this map, unless it's not a ghost. Then I don't think it'll work at all."

"What if it's from Sunnydale?" Buffy asked.

"Then we'll know to focus on local history."

"What if its origin isn't on the map?" Giles asked.

"Then we'll know to try again with a bigger map," Willow smiled. Some words in Latin were followed by, "Show me the origin of the spirit within this place. Where in life did it call its home?"

A blue glow appeared within the crystal. It expanded across the map, pulsing almost hesitantly before condensing back again to a dot on the other side of the country.

"Maine?" Buffy asked, "That's anticlimactic."

"That's a lot more specific than I was expecting," said Willow, "it's just a pinpoint."

"Can we do the spell again, with a map of Maine?" Giles asked.

They could, and this time the glow illuminated a single tiny town on the coast. Giles leaned in close to read the name. "Collinsport. I wonder… There's a town called Collinsport that's sort of an urban legend among Watchers. The town on the edge of realities, this place where the rules of magic are warped to strange behaviors, things that don't make sense even to the most experienced practitioners of magic. Of course, every Watcher that's ever gone there has reported nothing more than a small fishing town with a mediocre tourist industry and superstitious secretive locals who don't trust outsiders… which is fairly common for isolated small towns."

"But the legends are true," said Willow.

Giles shrugged a little, "There's apparently something to them, yes. We won't learn anything here. I'll catch the first flight I can. I'll call as soon as I discover anything."

"What do we do while you're gone?" Buffy asked.

"Continue patrols, keep doing what we've been doing, call if anything changes. I won't be gone more than a couple days." 

Collinsport appeared exactly as he'd said, a small town with superstitious locals with a love of ghost stories. The lady working at the inn had been kind, and the people at the only bar in town were friendly in a distant sort of way. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that the whole town felt like it was holding its breath.

His search of local public records didn't do anything to help. There were a lot of things left unexplained, a lot of explanations of tragedies that were simply rote excuses, the same sort of thing he'd expect to find in any police record of Sunnydale. Further discussions at The Blue Whale Tavern started to become fruitful, though at the same time his prying was making people wary. The founders of the town, the Collins family, tended to be spoken of in low voices. Many rumors ranged about the great house up on the hill, and in a town where deaths and disappearances were often inadequately explained, it was as good a place as any for Giles to focus his attention.

He'd just decided on this course of action when a young woman entered The Blue Whale and took the seat at the bar next to Giles. Her silk scarf came loose as she removed her jacket, revealing a glimpse of two bite marks on her neck before she re-wrapped it. There really was something supernatural in town after all, and the rumors concerning one Collins family member in particular started to make a lot more sense.

The Collins family estate was called Collinwood. Giles' destination the next morning was not the larger main house, Collinwood proper, but the smaller 'Old House', the original building before the bigger house was built a century later. It was a grand old Colonial brick structure, shuttered windows and overgrown vines notwithstanding.

As he approached, he saw a white-haired older man in rough clothes coming around the side, toolbox in his callused hand. "Hello," Giles said, "is this the Old House?"

"It is," the man said, eyeing him warily.

"Are you the caretaker?" Giles asked, gesturing to the tools.

He nodded. "Yeah, guess you could say that. Keep the place in shape as best I can. Getting on in years, can't do hardly as much as I used to. You're a new face in town."

"Yes, my name is Rupert Giles," he held out a hand.

The caretaker shook it, "Willie Loomis. What brings you up here?"

"Research. I was hoping to speak with Mr. Barnabas Collins, is he in?"

Willie blinked, surprised, "How'd you hear about Barnabas?" he asked with suspicion.

"The people in town. I'm doing some research on the supernatural legends of the area, and his name came up. I understand he's a historian himself?"

Willie smirked. "Yeah, I guess that's what he calls himself these days. He ain't in right now. Come back tonight."

Giles spent the rest of the day in town gathering as much information as he could on Barnabas Collins. If the townspeople had found his questions odd before, now they were nervous. Giles persevered, and found a few willing to talk frankly, especially after he made it clear he wouldn't think they were crazy. They gave him all the information he needed to paint a fascinating picture of Mr. Collins.

He returned to Collinwood right after sundown. Dogs howled in the distance as he approached the old house, its facade black with shadows and foreboding. His knock was answered by a dark haired man in a charcoal suit, possibly in his thirties but it was hard to say with any certainty. He gazed at Giles with wary curiosity. Giles couldn't help but think his eyes looked much older than the rest of him.

"You must be Mr. Giles."

"Yes."

"I am Barnabas Collins. I was told you came by earlier today. I understand you're doing some sort of research?"

"Yes. I'm sorry for the intrusion, but I wondered if I might ask a few questions."

"Please come in." Mr. Collins showed him into a parlor room that looked like it had been transported straight from the late 18th or early 19th century. The room was illuminated by a multitude of candles and a small fire in the fireplace. "May I ask the nature of your research?"

"Ah, sort of a paranormal history."

"That would explain your interest in Collinsport."

"Mm. Well, actually, it's an interest in your family in particular. I've spent the past couple days researching the town, and almost every mention of supernatural rumor is connected to the Collins family somehow."

"I am not surprised. Collinwood has been the site of a great many tragedies over the centuries. Its haunted halls have been the source of stories in the town for ages."

"You think the house is haunted then?"

"I know it is. As was this one for some time, though that ghost has since moved on."

"Interesting."

Mr. Collins gave him a wry smile. "You weren't expecting me to be so candid."

"Well, no."

"It's something of an area of interest to me. Do sit down."

"Thank you," Giles sat in the proffered chair, his host sitting across from him. "Do the rest of the Collins family share your acceptance of the supernatural?"

Another small grin. "Let us say, rather, that they are… resigned to it. Have you met them yet?"

"No, not yet. I had the impression that they wouldn't welcome my sorts of questions."

"You're probably right."

"I must admit, my primary reason for calling on you at all was the rumor of you being a vampire."

"I'm rather fond of that rumor. It has done a great deal to ensure my solitude here."

"You prefer being alone?"

"It suits me. That is not to say I don't enjoy company, but mine is a solitary life."

"I see. How did the rumor start?"

"The way all rumors of vampires start, I suppose. Mysterious deaths are blamed on the odd figure in the community. I am rarely seen during the day, I frequent the cemetery near here many nights, and I bear an uncanny resemblance to the first Barnabas Collins, whose portrait hangs in the foyer at Collinwood. Many have said we are identical, apart from the clothing."

"Ah. And yet, there is a vampire in Collinsport."

Mr. Collins' brow rose. "Is there?"

"There is at least something drinking the blood of young women, leaving two marks on their necks. Whoever it is, they're being very careful not to deplete their food supply, which suggests a great deal of self-control. Vampires tend to take what they want and not give a damn about the consequences."

Silence stretched as Barnabas Collins stared at him darkly, "You are suggesting that not only are vampires real, but there are multiple in existence."

Giles continued to speak as if he were discussing the weather. "Oh yes, a great many. There's an entire civilization's worth. That's how I know the rumors about you can't be true, and why I find them so interesting."

"Indeed?"

"You see, a true vampire is in reality a demon possessing a human corpse and creating a sort of demonic-human hybrid. It has all the memories of the host, but whoever the person was is gone. Aspects may remain, but it isn't ever truly the same person. There is no soul. You, Mr. Collins, are not a demon, as far as I can tell. Yet, you aren't human, either."

Mr. Collins' face remained impassive. "How can you be certain I'm not a demon?"

"I've read a number of reports of people being rescued from accidents and attacks of various sorts over the past couple decades, and each mentioned you, either by name or as a 'man in a black caped coat' I imagine much like the one hanging by the door. You've made yourself the protector of this place. Demons don't typically make a habit of saving lives."

Mr. Collins inclined his head in modest acquiescence before meeting Giles eyes, a skeptical expression on his face. "Then what, pray tell, am I?"

"I think the rumors of you are true as far as the fact that you are a creature that must drink human blood to live and you cannot exist in daylight. Beyond that, I have nothing to go on without knowing more about your origins. You weren't sired by another vampire, that much is certain."

"It was a witch."

Giles was surprised. "I beg your pardon?"

"A witch cursed me, I was bitten by a bat, and the night after I died I woke in a coffin, hungry for blood."

Giles was again taken aback by his host's candidness. He had the impression that, despite his claims of being suited to a solitary life, Barnabas Collins was secretly eager to be able to talk frankly about himself with someone. "A curse," Giles leaned forward a little, intrigued, "that is fascinating."

"I'm glad you think so," Mr. Collins' sardonic tone shifted to more genuine curiosity, "and you fascinate me as well, Mr. Giles. How do you know all of these things about so-called true vampires?"

"I was a Watcher. The Watchers are guardians of occult knowledge of a sort, and my primary duty was to train the Slayer, a young woman destined to fight evil in all forms. At the moment, she lives in Sunnydale, California, the location of a dimensional portal called a Hellmouth."

"I take it it's exactly what it sounds like?"

"Yes.

Mr. Collins was silent a moment. "Well. The question now is what brought you to Collinsport in the first place."

"There's a strange force terrorizing one of the buildings in the university. Its origin is Collinsport. Beyond that, we know nothing about it apart from it being troublesome, wailing occasionally in frustration, and having a bubbly laugh that makes the hair on the back of one's neck stand on end. It is likely a ghost, but none of our attempts to contact it or contain it have worked. We don't know if we've failed because it is simply too powerful or too stubborn, or if it's because it's not a ghost at all. As it comes from here -"

"You came looking for answers."

"Yes."

"You've given me much to think about, Mr. Giles. I will need more information to be of any assistance," Mr. Collins stood, "but I have kept a record of events surrounding Collinwood, and if your spirit comes from Collinsport, it is almost certainly tied to the Collinwood estate," he led the way to a small study, lighting candles and oil lamps. It was clear the house had no electricity. He gestured to a set of volumes on a shelf. "Feel free to take a look if you like. I will return shortly."

It didn't occur to Giles until after his host had left that the "vampire" had gone to eat. He was uncomfortable with the idea, but as Barnabas Collins wasn't a demon and seemed not to make a habit of killing, Giles forced himself to ignore his trepidation and sat at the desk to peruse the handwritten volumes.


	2. Chapter 2

While Giles was reading by candlelight, a tall dark-haired figure was walking the streets of Sunnydale, following a feeling. It tugged at him, a sensation of being drawn to a certain place, though he didn't know where. He'd only entered the town that night on a whim, passing through on his wanderings, and almost immediately the compulsion had taken hold of him. It was with a certain wariness that he followed - he had not lived as long as he had without learning caution. When his path crossed a graveyard, his caution doubled. Senses alert, he strode through with purpose, waiting to see what fate had in store for him this time.

He hadn't imagined it would be a blonde sailing through the air and right into him.

"Stay down!" she commanded, leaping back up and pulling a wooden stake from inside her jacket. Two men with horribly distorted faces and fangs came running towards her, murder and hunger in their cold eyes. With two fast and well placed stabs of her stake, they turned to dust.

"Behind you!" he shouted.

She turned and a third's dusty remains blew away on the wind. She turned back to look at him. "You ok?"

"Just fine, though perhaps a trifle surprised," he stood, dusting the grave dirt off his slacks, straightening his long jacket, "you seem no worse for wear yourself. That was quite impressive."

"Thanks," the stake went back into her jacket, "Probably want to hurry up to wherever you're going. Not safe to be out at night."

"I don't know where that is. Where I was going, I mean." The feeling he'd been following had vanished. "Doesn't matter now I suppose. If you could just point me to the nearest hotel?"

"Um. Sure," she looked at him oddly, and little wonder. "Go east down this street for five blocks or so, take a right. You'll see one."

"Thank you. Where'd a college girl learn to fight like that?"

"Girl's gotta know how to defend herself."

He cocked his head, amused. "There's self defense, and then there's shoving a stake into the chest of monsters."

She shrugged and turned to leave. "Get to that hotel. Fast."

"Can I at least know my rescuer's name?" he called after her, but she didn't answer.

The next day found Buffy at the Magic Box, where Willow and Tara were helping Dawn with her homework as they waited on word from Giles.

"Hey Buffy!" said Willow, "how's it going?"

"Ok. Something kind of weird happened last night."

"Uh oh. Weird like, 'oh how interesting and perfectly harmless' or weird like, 'oh no probably a sign of the apocalypse?'"

Buffy grinned. "The first one, I hope. Ran into a guy in the cemetery. Well, a vampire threw me into him. Then I dusted him. The vampire, not the guy."

"And why is this weird?" Tara asked.

"Just the way the guy acted. He seemed perfectly ok with the fact that I just staked a vampire in front of him. Then I staked two more. The he picked himself up off the ground, dusted himself off, smiled disarmingly and made a couple small talk type remarks with a grin on his face."

"So, you're freaked out that he wasn't more freaked out," Willow said.

"Yes. Is that weird?"

Willow and Tara looked at each other and shrugged.

Buffy sighed. "Any word from Giles?"

"Last thing we heard was that the town is small and kinda creepy and he was going to talk to a local historian of some sort," Tara said, "Barnabas Collins."

"Barnabas?" Dawn looked up from her textbook, skeptical.

"I like it. It sounds so formal and old-fashioned spooky," Willow said, repeating the name an octave lower and drawing it out slowly. "Baaarnabas Colllllins."

Buffy smiled. "Well, hopefully no news is good news, though it would be nice to figure out what's haunting the… no way."

"What is it?" asked Dawn.

Buffy was looking out the window. "It's the guy. The one from last night. He's crossing the street."

"Coming here?" Willow asked.

"The one with the 'disarming smile?'" Dawn grinned.

"He can see the shop's not open yet, right?" asked Tara.

"I don't think he cares. He saw me in the window," Buffy moved to the door, waiting for the knock.

Instead, a slip of paper slid under the door.

"I know your shop's closed, but please permit me to give the lady who saved my life a proper thank-you. I won't bite, I promise." Buffy read aloud, eyebrows rising at the last sentence.

"At least he's got a sense of humor," Tara smiled.

"There's that," Buffy muttered, and opened the door.

"Good afternoon," the tall, lean man said. In the daylight she could see his hair was brown, styled to have just a hint of sideburns, and his mouth seemed stuck in a perpetual smirk. "May I come in?"

"I'd rather not. Nothing personal, just, you know. Closed."

"Of course. Well, I wanted to say thank you, properly," he looked inside, over her head, "and this is quite the place. I know," he held up his hands, smiling as he beat Buffy to her rebuttal, "you're closed. Just making an observation... and what is apparently a poor attempt at small talk. I'll let you get back to," he glanced at Dawn, "homework. Thank you again." He started to turn away, but spun back, "Incidentally, when do you open?"

"When the owner gets back in town."

"I see. And are creatures like the ones from last night common on the streets after dark?"

"Yep."

"Then I suppose this really is a magic shop, not just baubles for housewives."

"Yep."

He looked at her a moment, hands in his pockets, genuinely puzzled. "Why are you annoyed?"

Buffy frowned a little, unsure herself. "I don't understand why you're still here."

"Doesn't anyone ever say thank you?"

"Not usually, no." The phone rang. Willow answered as Buffy softened, "I'm Buffy. I kill vampires. And other things."

"Those were vampires?" he looked genuinely surprised. "Do all of them around here look like that?"

It was a strange question. "As far as I know, all of them around everywhere do."

"Hm. Well, Buffy, my name is Quentin Collins, and it is an honor to meet you."

She couldn't believe it was just a coincidence. "Collins."

"Yes."

"Have you ever heard of a town called Collinsport?"

Quentin's smile became forced. "Yes. Charming little fishing town."

"You wouldn't happen to know a Barnabas Collins, would you?"

Quentin's smile vanished. "And where on earth did you hear that name?"

"That was Giles," Willow said, hanging up the phone. "He's on his way back from Collinsport, should get here tonight. He said he's bringing the local expert with him."

Quentin's brow rose. "Ladies, may I come inside? I feel like there is quite a bit we should discuss. Namely, how my cousin's name is known all the way on the other side of the country and why my hometown is of such interest to you."

Buffy let him in, locking the door behind him. "Don't try anything."

He smirked. "I wouldn't dream of it. Would you please explain what's going on?"

"Something's been haunting the college library. We've figured out it comes from Collinsport, but that's it. So our friend Giles went out there to see if he could find any info. Last thing we heard, he was going to try to meet with a Barnabas Collins to see if he could get any answers."

"Wait," Dawn said, "you're named Collins, and you live in Collinsport?"

"The family founded the town back in the 17th century, Miss…?"

"I'm Dawn."

"She's my sister," Buffy cut in, a touch defensively, "Tara and Willow are friends of mine."

"Ladies," he bowed his head, "Quentin, at your service," he turned back to Buffy, "and if you've got a spirit from Collinsport in town, I'm going to insist on being involved with whatever it is you plan on doing. There's a decent chance it's part of the family. I want to know everything that's been happening, and if possible, I'd like to see the library it's haunting."

"Part of the family?" Dawn asked.

"Almost everything supernatural in Collinsport has ties to the Collins family. Not always a direct link, mind you, but we're always involved somehow," he said with chagrin.

"We could at least take him to the library," suggested Tara, "they've kept it open, even with all the poltergeist-y things happening."

"Been kind of a deterrent to students, though," Willow added.

"It hasn't harmed anyone?" Quentin asked.

"Scared the bejeezus out of a bunch of people. Books flying, shelves falling, wailing, laughing as people run away, that sort of thing," Willow explained.

"But it could get worse," Buffy said.

"And it has been my experience that it probably will," Quentin nodded. "Lead on then. Let's go make this spirit's acquaintance."

Buffy shrugged. "Why not? You three stay here -"

"What?" they said in unison.

"Someone has to stay with Dawn."

"I'm not a child! I can watch myself in the middle of the day. Besides, I don't see why I can't come with you."

"And we're not letting you go talk to a ghost with a mysterious stranger," Willow stated like it should be obvious.

"Do you all usually go ghost hunting together?" Quentin asked, amused.

"All the time," said Willow. "We're Buffy's backup team."

"Then I don't see why now should be any different," he smiled.

Buffy sighed, and led the way. Quentin followed, curious about this young woman who could kill vampires so easily, not to mention the strange differences between the vampires here and his cousin Barnabas. The fact that they had an entourage - a 'back-up team' - was almost as ridiculous as the idea of a cheerleader fighting monsters. Still, he couldn't deny what he'd seen last night... and honestly, stranger things existed in the world.

Their group grew larger as they walked across the college campus. "Hey Buffy! Willow!" A young man with black hair and a blond young woman hurried up to them, "Tara, Dawn…"

"Stranger?" the woman finished.

"This is becoming quite the party," Quentin muttered. He didn't like the idea of so many onlookers when dealing with supernatural beings. It increased the chances of something going wrong.

"Xander, Anya, this is Quentin. We're taking him to meet the thing haunting the library," Buffy introduced them.

"Oh! Yes. Good. I always take everyone I've only just met to see ghosts," said Xander.

"He might know what it is," Willow rolled her eyes with a smile. "He's from Collinsport."

"He's a Collins," Dawn added with artificial pomp.

Quentin sighed, "It's been ages since I associated with children," he said to himself.

"Hey!"

He realized he'd spoken aloud. "Nothing personal, Dawn. Compared to me - never mind."

"Compared to you what?" Buffy asked.

Quentin grinned. "Oh, why not," he shrugged. They were clearly accustomed to ghosts and vampires, why not him? "I was just telling Dawn how it's been a long time since I associated with children. She was rightfully offended, though I meant nothing by it. Compared to me, that could describe all of you." A chorus of offense went up. He gave a short laugh. "How old do you think I am? Take a guess, any of you."

"Thirty?" Dawn hazarded.

"Twenty-seven," said Tara.

"Fifty-two and you've had work done," said Xander.

"One hundred thirty five," said Anya. Everyone stared at her. "What? You're all just naming numbers based on an assumption of him being human."

Quentin, still surprised by the insight, said, "You overshot it by a bit."

"How much is 'a bit?'" asked Buffy.

"Five years."

He made it a few steps before realizing everyone else had stopped. He turned back to face them, a wry smile on his face. "You kill vampires. And other things. Surely the idea of a one hundred thirty year old man isn't that shocking?"

"Most people we meet who are over a century old are also undead," Xander said.

Buffy came up to Quentin, a frown on her pretty face, a challenge in her eyes. He did not want to ever see this woman angry, that was certain. "Where were you going last night?"

"I don't know. I was passing through town when I felt something pulling at me, directing me. Then a beautiful young woman wielding a sharp piece of wood sailed through the air and knocked me over."

"Something in town was calling to you."

"I haven't felt it since then."

"How come you're so old?"

"It's a long story."

"Tell the short version."

"I had my portrait painted."

"You mean like the _Picture of Dorian Gray_?" Willow asked as the rest of the group came closer.

"Not exactly, but it's a similar idea. Of course, I like to think I've maintained a slightly more moral lifestyle, and I have clearly outlived the protagonist."

"He has a portrait that ages instead of him," Tara explained in a hushed voice to Dawn, Xander and Anya.

"I understood the reference," Xander protested.

"I didn't," said Anya.

"Shall we continue?" Quentin asked, "Or is there anything else you'd like to ask to ensure my trustworthiness?"

"I'm still not convinced you're trustworthy, but the library's right over here," Buffy gestured, leading them all inside.

The library was empty except for a scattering of students and one librarian that gave the large group a warning glance. No sooner had Quentin stepped onto the second floor than a breeze started.

"I think it would be wise for everyone to leave," he announced. The students looked up, puzzled. The breeze grew to a strong wind. Students on both floors hastily packed up their things and ran out the door, the librarian close behind, just as books started flying.

"There's no need for this!" Quentin shouted to the air as he dodged a thick volume. A bubbly sinister laugh rang out through the air, making him freeze, a grim smile on his face. "Angelique."

"Who dares say my name!" her voice shouted.

"Don't you know? You called me here, didn't you, Angelique?" he over-enunciated the name, giving it a mockingly heavy French accent.

"Quentin!"

"He got it to talk?" Xander said, shocked.

"Apparently they know each other," said Buffy.

A hazy image of a beautiful woman in a late 18th century dress started to form in front of them. "I thought I sensed your presence last night."

"How did you know I was in town?"

"I was reaching out, trying to determine where I was, and I sensed you, much to my surprise. The connection was weak, and when we were suddenly severed, I couldn't find you again."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was summoned - sort of. I'm stuck, with no idea of who brought me here or for what purpose."

"Huh. Well, I'll see what I can do to fix that."

"You must." As a slight afterthought, she added, "Please, Quentin."

His grin was both amused and sarcastic. "Since you asked so nicely. You'll hear from me later tonight, Angelique. In the meantime, try to behave yourself."

He walked away, his quiet command to the rest of the gang, "Leave. Now." spurring them to follow and not look back.

"So who was that?" asked Buffy once they were back outside.

"Her name is Angelique. She's a witch. She's also responsible for a decent percentage of all the suffering my family's been through over the the past couple centuries, though she'll be the first to point out she's also helped us on occasion."

"Wait. She's a witch?" said Willow.

"She's a bad witch," Tara clarified.

"Is there any other kind?" Quentin asked.

"Yes!" everyone shouted in unison, bringing him to a halt.

He stared at Willow and Tara. "You two."

"Yeah," Willow said, puffing herself up, "we are. Of the good type, I mean."

Quentin considered this for a moment. "You're human. Angelique's not. Her Dark Lord claimed her soul over two hundred years ago."

"Lovely," muttered Dawn.

"And your plan for getting her out of Sunnydale?" Xander asked.

"I don't have one yet. I'm hoping your friend Giles and his so-called local expert will have some ideas. I'm more concerned with how the hell she got here in the first place."

"She said she was summoned," said Anya.

"But by whom? And how?"

"And why?" Buffy added.

"I doubt that 'why' matters. Now that she's here, no one, no matter how powerful, is going to get her to do what they want."


	3. Chapter 3

Giles returned about an hour after sundown. All the Scoobies were assembled at the Magic Box with Quentin, except Riley. Buffy had left a message for him, but had also said it wasn't anything urgent, just the ghost in the library. She didn't know where he was, but trusted him to take care of himself.

"Hello everyone," Giles said as he entered, holding the door open for a man in a black caped coat carrying a silver headed cane.

Quentin's face took on a surprised grin. "Well, there's someone I never expected to see outside Collinsport."

The man in the caped coat looked equally surprised. "Quentin! What on earth are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing, Barnabas," Quentin shook his hand warmly, "It's been a while. You look well, all things considered."

Barnabas's grin was slight and ironic. "And you haven't changed a bit, either."

"Time changes everyone," Quentin pronounced grandly.

"Mm. Some more than others."

Quentin chuckled, "I believe introductions are in order before our hostess kicks me out. Cousin Barnabas, may I present Buffy Summers, her sister Dawn, and their compatriots Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya. I'd give last names if I could remember them, but they're an informal bunch anyway."

"Good evening," Barnabas bowed slightly. "Quentin, Mr. Rupert Giles. He's the reason I'm here."

"You must tell me how you managed to convince Barnabas to leave Collinsport," Quentin shook Giles's hand, "I never thought it possible. How'd you manage with the coffin?"

The air was still as Barnabas sighed.

"Coffin?" Buffy said, looking from Barnabas to Giles to Quentin and back again. "Why is there a coffin?"

"Sorry, I just thought it was better to be blunt and honest, especially considering her occupation," Quentin said to Barnabas, only slightly apologetic.

"What occupation is that?" Barnabas asked.

Buffy was not at all amused that they avoided the question. "I'm the Slayer."

"Ah," Barnabas gazed at her, assessing her, curious. "Mr. Giles has told me a bit about you, of course, though I must admit you are not quite what I pictured."

"You should see what the vampires they have around here are like," Quentin said, "I tell you, Barnabas, there are worse fates than your condition."

"I think perhaps we should start from the beginning," Giles cut in, finally commanding the attention he'd been trying to summon since he walked in. "Now, the first thing I want to know is whether there have been any fresh developments?"

"The library's being haunted by the spirit of a witch called Angelique," said Willow.

"Angelique," Barnabas's eyes widened as he looked to Quentin for confirmation.

Quentin nodded. "Spoke with her myself."

"What is she doing here?"

"No idea. She doesn't know either."

"Quentin told us a little bit about her," Tara said, "but not a lot. Just that she's a witch, and trouble."

"You didn't see fit to tell them my life story?" Barnabas said sarcastically.

"I thought it would be better coming from you," Quentin bowed and gestured to the audience.

Barnabas would not be baited. "Where do you fit into all this? Why are you here?"

"I was wondering that myself," Giles said.

"Would you believe I was passing through?"

"From anyone else, no. From you? Perhaps," Barnabas said. "It wouldn't be the first time our paths happened to cross."

"At least you weren't driving this time."

"Well, to bring everyone up to speed," Giles said, before another tangent could start, "Mr. Collins has an extensive knowledge of the history of Collinsport, hence why I asked him to come here to identify our ghost. Apparently, that was unnecessary, what with the other Mr. Collins arriving out of sheer luck."

"Call me Quentin, please. And while I arrived in town on a whim, I did feel something drawing me to stay put. Turns out it was Angelique latching on to a sense of something familiar. But with Barnabas here, we'll be more likely to get Angelique to cooperate."

Barnabas rolled his eyes. "She's just as likely to be more stubborn not to, and you know it."

Xander raised his hand. "I'm still stuck on the whole coffin thing."

Giles nodded, "Well, yes. Mr. Collins also has many of the traits you'd find in a vampire."

"That's an odd way of putting it," Quentin muttered.

"Apparently the fact that I am not demonic in origin makes me something other than vampiric in nature," Barnabas clarified with a bit of amused skepticism.

"You're not really a vampire," Quentin said with a sardonic smirk. "Despite your hunger for blood, and need to sleep in a coffin during the day. Aversion to sunlight, dislike of crosses, turning into a bat -"

"You've made your point, Quentin," Barnabas cut him off.

"You can turn into a bat?" Buffy asked, suddenly alarmed. Xander paled.

"Like Dracula?" Willow asked.

"Can you do the wolf thing too? Or the mist?" Anya added, more enthusiastic than the rest of the group.

Barnabas and Quentin turned to Giles for an explanation.

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that," Giles muttered before explaining, "We recently had an encounter with Dracula, of literary fame. Most vampires can't change their shape or turn to mist or whatever, and it was suggested that those abilities came from magic as opposed to any innate ability. As your, ah, vampirism, for lack of a better term, comes from magic, it would make some small amount of sense that you should have those characteristics and not the more… demonic ones."

"Dracula," Quentin repeated, still not sure if he believed it.

"Interesting," Barnabas said, moving on to consider the explanation for his abilities, "though, I must say that I cannot turn into a wolf," he glanced meaningfully at Quentin, clearly tempted to say something, and then thinking better of it as Quentin glared back.

"So, Mr. Collins," Tara said, "do you know how to get rid of Angelique?"

"Thank you, Tara," Giles sighed in relief at the topic shift.

Barnabas shook his head, "Not yet. I'll have to talk to her first."

"And this time," Quentin added, "the fewer the onlookers the better. This will either go very well, or very poorly."

"I'd like Buffy and Willow to come with both Mr. Collinses and me," Giles said. His tone accepted no argument. "The rest of you shall stay here. We'll return shortly."

"And if we don't," Quentin grinned, "assume we're dead."

"I don't have to worry about that," Barnabas said on their way out, "If I was truly dead, she wouldn't be able to torment me."

"Good point," Quentin held the door open for Buffy and Willow, "though that's not much comfort for the rest of us," he finished, and closed the door behind him.

Xander looked at the remaining Scoobies. "Anyone else have the feeling like they just stepped into the middle of a soap opera?"

#

"How are we getting in? It's closed," Quentin asked.

"I'll go inside first and then let you all in," Barnabas suggested. When no one objected, he disappeared. The door opened, Barnabas standing on the inside.

"That was mildly creepy," Buffy said as he held the door open for her.

"Surely you've seen 'creepier' things," he said.

"Still doesn't change the fact that going through walls is creepy."

"I don't exactly go through walls," Barnabas started to elaborate, but Quentin held up a hand.

"We don't have time to discuss the finer points of your talents, Barnabas. Miss Slayer can question you later, if she wants," he started up the stairs, tense.

The library was quiet, the dim glow from a single fluorescent security light the only illumination. Giles, Willow and Buffy hung back as Quentin and Barnabas walked along the second floor. A light breeze blew, and a woman with blond hair, blue eyes, wearing an emerald green Victorian era dress appeared. "Barnabas!" she gasped, smiling.

"Hello, Angelique."

"Well, this is a surprise. First Quentin, now you."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing. Did Quentin send for you?"

"You've caused a bit of commotion. The people behind me determined you lived in Collinsport in life, and I know more about Collinsport history than anyone."

"You're a consultant? That's hilarious." She tilted her head slightly to the side, "You aren't happy to see me."

"What are you doing, here, Angelique?" Barnabas sighed, tired.

"I was summoned. I've tried reaching out to find the summoner, but there's nothing… my, my, your new friends have power," she looked at Willow, "the redhead especially."

"You leave her be, Angelique," Quentin warned.

"Oh, Quentin, really. So much suspicion is most unbecoming of you."

"You haven't the slightest idea why you were brought here?" Barnabas pressed.

"None," Angelique was annoyed, "and I don't appreciate being bound here, either."

"Surely it's better than the alternative," Quentin drawled.

"Hmpf. At least there is great power here," her face lit up with a strange smile, "It's really quite amazing."

"Hey, Will," Buffy whispered, "wasn't she hazier last time?"

"Definitely. You think she's stronger now?"

"Feeding off the Hellmouth," Giles muttered, "That could be problematic."

"What do you remember about your summoning?" Barnabas asked.

"The summons was strong, but it faded quickly, leaving me between worlds for a moment. By the time I managed to materialize, no one was here."

"If I may," Giles said, stepping forward, "that sounds like amateur spellwork."

Angelique was mortally offended. "An amateur! Are you suggesting I've been summoned and bound here by… by some hedge-witch?!"

"More likely a student dabbling in old magics," Quentin chuckled, "or hadn't you noticed you're trapped in a school library?"

"Quentin," Barnabas warned, but it was too late.

An invisible force of rage burst forth from Angelique, knocking everyone to the ground. "You had to rub it in, didn't you?" Giles glared at the immortal.

Quentin glared back, "You're the one who brought up 'amateurs.'"

"This is intolerable," Angelique declared, "I shall have to take matters into my own hands -"

"You will not harm anyone here," Barnabas commanded, somehow managing to remain dignified as he stood up.

"Barnabas, my love, do not threaten me," Angelique batted her eyes with a saccharine smile, "I will do what I must to be free."

"Surely you can endure a few days trapped in this room. As Quentin said, it must be better than the underworld." He took a step closer, his voice a little softer. "I have no desire to see you trapped here, but you must have patience."

She sighed with a roll of her eyes. "Very well. But hurry, gentlemen. My patience is far from infinite."

Barnabas bowed and led the way out, locking the door from the inside before doing his disappearing/reappearing trick again.

Willow walked next to Quentin. "So, when you said that this could either go very well or very poorly..."

"That went very well."

"Good. Right?"

"You tell me. You're a witch. How would you get out of that situation?"

"Imagine you find the idea of being vulnerable or indebted to anyone simultaneously foreign and repulsive," Barnabas added.

"Sheesh." Willow could tell they didn't really take her claims of being a witch seriously, but she also didn't mind much since the only thing they had for comparison was Angelique. She shook her head, "I don't want to imagine that. But I guess I'll think about it."

"Alternatively, you can focus on finding a way to track whoever did the summoning," said Giles. "Buffy, I'd like you to go out on patrol now, and be on your guard. If Angelique is using the energies of the Hellmouth to make herself stronger, it could have an effect on the rest of the supernatural in the area. Or it might not -"

"- but it's not worth the risk," Buffy nodded, "I'll call Riley again, have him come with. Plus it'll give him something to do."

"Riley?" Quentin asked as she walked off.

"Boyfriend," said Giles.

"Just your average secret-government-agent trained-to-kill-demons farm-boy," Willow smiled.

"Is anyone in this town actually normal?" Barnabas asked.

"Depends on your definition of normal," Willow said.

"There are quite a few of them, but it's often impossible to differentiate at first glance," Giles said.

They went back to the Magic Box, where Tara was sitting on the stairs inside with a stack of spellbooks. "Xander and Anya took Dawn home," she said, "school night."

"And you started your own research," Willow said, selecting a book from the stack and joining her with a proud smile and a quick kiss.

"Excellent," said Giles, "you two can be in charge of researching the spell that summoned Angelique, I'll try and find a way to get her out of here. I'll need to gather some materials, and then I'll need as much detail about her background and abilities as possible," he said to Barnabas.

"I'll be glad to tell you everything I know."

"And he knows more than I do," Quentin leaned against the counter, "which leaves me as something of a fifth wheel."

"You could help us," Tara said.

"You do have some experience as a warlock yourself," Barnabas's dry comment was said with a mocking grin.

Quentin scoffed. "I've cast a few spells. I'm hardly a regular practitioner. You've dabbled in magic yourself, not to mention time travel."

"Wait, what?" Willow asked.

"Barnabas, you're going to have to tell us about it," Tara smiled. "Time travel is too good a story to pass up."

Barnabas smiled a little, "Unfortunately, tales of my life will have to wait. While Giles is gathering his material, I'm going to take the opportunity to step out. I'll be back shortly."

"Where'd he go?" Tara wondered as the door closed.

Quentin grinned. "He's a vampire. Where do you think?"

"Oh."

"Oh!" said a wide-eyed Willow a moment later, "I hope Buffy doesn't see him… you know."

"I'm sure Barnabas will be careful. He's had a lot of experience being discrete," Quentin said, walking over to them and selecting a book from their stack. "I suppose I may as well make myself useful."

"You're not used to doing that, are you?" Willow asked.

He shot her his best rakish grin. "How could you tell?"


	4. Chapter 4

It was afternoon when Riley caught up to Buffy walking across campus. "Did you see they closed the library today? Renovation or repairs or something ridiculous."

"I saw. Probably for the best."

"Yeah. Hey, so, to recap what you told me last night on patrol, there's the ghost of a witch haunting the library, and we've got Dorian Gray and a non-demonic vampire in town to get her out, even though up until now no such thing existed."

Buffy nodded. "That's about right. Giles has been doing all sorts of research into esoteric Caribbean cults and voodoo and stuff. He's never heard of anything like Barnabas before."

"But he trusts him?"

"For now, though he's been keeping an eye on him."

Riley shook his head, "A curse to turn a person into a vampire. That is some twisted magic. And the other guy -"

"Quentin."

"He randomly walks into town just as all this is happening?"

"Apparently being in the right place at the wrong time happens to him a lot."

"Uh huh."

"Yeah. Xander says it's all very soap opera."

"And you don't find that bothersome or slightly suspicious or anything."

Buffy shrugged, "Sure I do, but if it stops things in the library from getting worse, I'll go along with the vampire who actually sleeps in a coffin and the immortal smart-ass… what's going on over there?"

A shouting match was quickly escalating between two male students. As shoves turned to swings, Buffy and Riley ran over, pulling them apart. "Not the time or the place!" Riley ordered, "Break it up!"

Immediately, their expressions changed. "What?" one asked, confused and subdued.

"Get off me, man," said the other, puzzled.

"You were fighting," Buffy said, but they looked at her like she was crazy.

"I… I kind of remember that," the first said. "What were we fighting about?"

"I don't know," the other shrugged and they walked off together again.

"Mind control?" Riley suggested.

"That'd be my guess," Buffy nodded, looking around. "Let's walk a little."

Fights and arguments were breaking out all across campus. Sometimes they seemed to appear from nothing, others were clearly provoked, but the person who provoked them never remembered doing it, or didn't know why.

"Something's messing with people's heads," Riley muttered.

"My money's on the ghost," Buffy said.

"So what's the plan? I doubt asking her to knock it off will go over well."

"She won't listen to us, but she might listen to Quentin, if we can find him."

"Do you know why she's so chummy with them if she's an evil witch?" Riley asked as he followed Buffy off campus.

"'Chummy' isn't a good word for it. More like… you know when you have a history with someone, and it's not a good history, but there were good times, and you sort of ignore all the bad stuff for the moment just so you won't kill the other person? It's like that."

"... yeah, that didn't make any sense."

Buffy sighed. "Come on, I think I know what hotel he's staying at."

He wasn't there. He wasn't at the Magic Box, either. "Those are the two places he knows in town, where else could he be?" Buffy wondered aloud.

"Wandering around?" Riley said, "Spying? Conspiring? Engaging in midday dark ritual?"

"Oh-kay, we can turn down the conspiracy theorizing a notch or two. You haven't even met him."

"Forgive me for being naturally suspicious of a person with inexplicably good timing."

"Let's call Giles and see - oh there he is!"

"That's what I'm talking about!" Riley crossed his arms, exasperated. Quentin was walking towards them, a concerned look on his face.

"Buffy! Glad I found you. Have you seen what's going on at your school?"

Buffy gave Riley her best 'now behave' look. "People acting like they're possessed? Yeah, noticed. You think it's your witch ghost friend?"

"'Friend' is a strong word, but yes, I think there's a good chance Angelique is involved," he looked at Riley, a slight smirk on his face, "and this must be the boyfriend."

"Riley, Quentin, Quentin, Riley," Buffy said quickly, "can you stop whatever it is she's doing? Or convince her to stop?"

"I can try, though I doubt it'll do any good."

"Try."

"How did you know what was going on?" Riley asked Quentin as they went back to campus, not quite confrontational.

"I went for a walk rather than stay cooped up in my room all day. I went by the campus and immediately thought of Angelique. It's not just the school, either. People on the streets surrounding it have been acting strange, completely without reason or logic. It's only a matter of time before someone gets hurt."

But as they walked across the campus grounds, everything seemed surprisingly normal. "She stopped," Quentin muttered. "Well. That's fortunate."

"Why'd she stop?" Riley asked.

"She was bored, and now her entertainment is boring. I shudder to think what might happen next," Quentin stated before stopping and turning around.

"So, not going to see Angelique," said Buffy, confused.

"She's stopped. It'll be better to talk to her tonight, when Barnabas will be up. No offense meant, but I'd rather have him at my back. I know Barnabas, and so does Angelique."

"Fair enough," Buffy said.

"Whoa, wait," Riley protested, "that's it? This witch has been messing with people's heads, and you're just going to wait til sundown?"

"Yes," Quentin turned to face him, the gravity of his expression and sheer weariness in his face bringing Riley up short. "Do not underestimate Angelique. She is not just a ghost, not just a witch. Barnabas and I have history with her that lets us interact without much fear of harm. You are simply an insect for her to bat aside once she is annoyed with you. We wait for Barnabas, because he is the only person in the world we can safely assume she will not destroy."

"And why can we assume that?" Riley demanded.

Quentin grinned, not pleasantly. "Because, my boy, she loves him - or is obsessed with him. Either way, she won't kill him, which is more than I can say for what she might do to anyone else in this town who gets in her way."

Riley bristled at being called 'boy', but only asked, "Even you?"

"Even me. We may be friendly for the moment, but that could easily change. As no one is in immediate danger right now, we will wait for my cousin to rise this evening."

"I don't like it."

"I don't expect you to."

"If we could just kill the testosterone for a second," Buffy cut in, "what I want to know is what we're supposed to do until sundown?"

"Whatever it is you normally do," Quentin said.

"We should let Giles know what happened on campus," said Riley, trying to have some sort of input into the situation, "The sooner he finds a solution, the better."

"If you like," Quentin shrugged, "He wasn't at the shop."

"He might be at home," said Riley.

"Home it is," said Buffy, "Follow us, Quentin."

"He doesn't have to come," Riley said.

"Either he's suspicious and we should keep an eye on him, or he's the helpful expert on the enemy we should keep with us. Either way, I want him to come."

Riley glared at her for two seconds before sighing. "Yes, ma'am."

Quentin, thankfully, didn't say anything.

It turned out Giles was at home, much to Buffy's relief. Even though they hadn't said a word, the bizarre tension between Riley and Quentin was starting to drive her crazy. "Buffy!" Giles was surprised as he let them in, "What's happened?"

"Angelique's causing trouble," Buffy started, and stopped, staring at the coffin taking up a corner of Giles' living room. "Giles? Is that…"

"Barnabas insisted on bringing it, and my home was the only place I could guarantee it would remain undisturbed."

"He's in there?" Buffy asked.

Giles nodded, "And in a trance-like state, much deeper than normal sleep."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. After making sure no sunlight could reach the coffin, I opened it to see for myself."

"A vampire that really does sleep in a coffin," Riley muttered, still disbelieving.

Quentin looked on, a touch flippant. "He has to sleep there. He can't get any proper rest without it."

"So he told me," Giles said, "now what's happened with Angelique?"

"Oh, just mental manipulation, making people do and say things they never would usually, starting arguments and fights, et cetera. She's bored," Quentin's flippant tone faded as he sat on the sofa, "though this is somewhat out of character for her. She usually doesn't toy with people unless they cross her. I can only assume she's testing the reach of her powers."

"What do we do about it?" Buffy asked.

Giles sighed. "You and Riley will patrol as usual. We cannot let the annoyance of a ghost interfere with our primary duties. Willow and I will return to the library with Quentin and Barnabas as soon as he's… awake. Then we'll make further plans depending on how that meeting goes."

"Fine with me," Riley muttered, "I think I prefer fighting vampires to dealing with lovesick ghost witches any day."

Quentin chuckled. "I think I might agree with you."

#

Barnabas was alarmed to find his coffin already open, with Quentin looking over him. He sat up, "What's happened?"

"Angelique's been restless."

"Has she harmed anyone?"

"Not yet, but she was toying with people's minds this afternoon. Mostly petty stuff, but enough to make me worry."

"We'll see her immediately," Barnabas got down from the coffin with practiced ease to find Giles and Willow in the room, ready to leave.

"We thought you might say that," Giles said as Quentin handed him his coat and cane.

"Miss Willow, you'll be joining us again?" Barnabas asked, amused and curious.

"Giles wants me to come along as magical support and consultant, just in case," she said.

"You haven't seen what she's capable of," Giles reminded Barnabas and Quentin like a professor talking to students.

Barnabas silently acquiesced and gestured that she should lead the way.

"A scholar, a witch, a vampire and me," muttered Quentin, "what better team against Angelique."

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated," Barnabas reprimanded as they left.

"I wasn't being sarcastic," Quentin protested, "we're the best chance this town has."

"We're doomed," said Giles.

When they arrived at the library, the doors were open, despite the building being closed all day. "She's expecting us," Quentin said.

"Perhaps. Quentin and I will go first. The two of you will stay back," Barnabas ordered.

"Fine with us," Willow said quietly.

Barnabas was wary as he walked inside. Something felt different tonight, though he couldn't have described what it was in words. The library looked the same as before. Quentin kept close behind him, nearly running into him as he suddenly stopped. Angelique appeared right in front of them in the lobby of the first floor.

"Well. At least you can go down stairs," Quentin said.

"No thanks to any effort on your part," Angelique huffed.

"I told you to be patient," Barnabas said.

"I have been patient!"

"Damn it, Angelique, you couldn't even last a day!" Quentin said.

"I haven't harmed anyone!" she protested, indignant.

"Not physically, maybe, but your manipulations have caused unnecessary trouble across the school and into the town."

"You're lashing out because you can't stand the thought of not being in control," Barnabas scolded.

Angelique scoffed, "This from the man who is willing to do anything to remain in complete control of his existence."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Brainwashing and kidnapping a woman just so you could pretend to turn back the clock? To regain your darling little suicide?"

Barnabas' face was stone, his grip on his cane tight, "Don't you dare. That was nearly forty years ago."

"What are decades to beings like us?" Angelique asked, "You've squandered every chance at regaining your humanity, both of science and magic, because it wasn't exactly how you wanted it to happen. Did you quit looking for a cure because it was hopeless, or because it bored you?"

"Angelique, that's enough," Quentin warily ordered, stepping in front of his cousin as rage flashed in Barnabas' eyes.

"You're no better, Quentin," Angelique berated him, "The savage beast playing the part of the charming rogue. Marriage never really suited you, did it? Better to wander the earth and be free, now you can do it for the rest of eternity. It's for the best you lost Amanda, or else you probably would have driven her mad and killed her just like Jenny -"

Quentin slapped her, his open palm passing through the image of her face. Everyone stared, the air tense. Angelique's eyes wide with shock met Quentin's glare. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

"You've gone too far, Angelique." He turned and walked out.

"Where are you going?" she called after him.

"Good luck, Angelique. Do not underestimate the people here, they are much more than they seem."

"Barnabas? No! You can't leave me here!"

Giles and Willow caught up to Quentin and Barnabas, "Wait, you're not actually leaving, are you?" Willow asked.

"I'm very seriously considering it," Quentin growled.

Barnabas sighed wearily, "Quentin, you know it's exactly as I said. She is lashing out -"

"She went too far."

"I agree."

"I need a drink."

"I think I can provide that," Giles said.

Willow returned home and told Tara what had happened. "And then he smacked her! Well, he would have, if she weren't incorporeal, but his hand just sort of passed through her face. Still, he was furious, and she was so shocked. And then he says, 'You've gone too far, Angelique' and he walked out, and then Barnabas walked out with him, and Angelique called out after them but they weren't having any of it, and now Giles is home with Quentin drinking and Barnabas is out doing I don't want to think of what."

Tara was stunned. "Wow. Xander's right, it really is like a soap opera."

"And we don't even know half of it! Who was Jenny? Why did Quentin kill her? Who's Amanda? Who did Barnabas brainwash? Brainwashing! Who the heck does that, other than evil comic book villains?"

"Who was the suicide? And it sounds like both of them have history with Angelique."

"Exactly!" Willow sighed. "Barnabas seemed ok afterwards, but Quentin was really shook up. I think he might actually leave, and if he does, I don't think it'll make Angelique more willing to cooperate."

"Oh! I was going to tell you, I think I might have found a way to trace whoever cast the summons in the first place."

"Really?!"

"It's not perfect, at all, but if we can iron out the kinks I think it should work."

"That's wonderful!" Willow kissed her, "We can show Giles tonight before it gets any later. I think everyone could use as big a morale boost as they can get right now."


	5. Chapter 5

Giles handed the glass of brandy to Quentin. "So, who are Amanda and Jenny?"

Quentin swallowed a large gulp and sat on the sofa. "Jenny was my wife, back in the 1890s. I left her, to run off with another woman. When I returned to Collinwood, Jenny was gone. Her servant was still around, but I didn't ask questions. I was too consumed with my mission to get as much inheritance as possible out of my ailing aunt. I was going to be 'master of Collinwood,' one way or another," he gave a short laugh before having another large sip, "I was an idiot.

"Turns out, Jenny was pregnant with twins when I left her, and after they were born they were taken from her and put into a foster home. Having her children taken drove her insane. And my family, my darling, maddening family, decided that locking her up in the basement was the best solution.

"Of course, back then psychiatric help was nothing like it is today. Still. They locked her away in her little room, made sure she was fed, and tried their best not to think about her. One day she escaped. She killed me with a knife."

"Sorry, killed you?" Giles asked.

"Yes. Barnabas was around at that time - all the details are too complicated to get into now, but he managed to convince Angelique to resurrect me. When Jenny tried again, I strangled her, and Jenny's sister, a gypsy, cursed me and every firstborn male descendant of mine to be a werewolf."

"You're joking."

"No, I'm not. The man who commissioned my portrait was a gypsy warlock. The original intent of the portrait was to contain the beast. It transforms instead of me. Immortality was a side effect… I think."

Giles refilled their glasses. "And Amanda?"

"A later love. I left her, too, though not for another woman. We could never be together because as she grew old and faded I would remain the same, and one day she would hate me for it. And I couldn't bear to see it happen. I never thought I would see her again… but she turned up decades later, exactly as I'd left her, and I loved her just as much as before. Death had apparently seen fit to give her a second chance. I had the opportunity to pull her out of the underworld, to be with me forever," he drained his glass, "I failed."

They sat in silence a moment, as Giles refilled Quentin's glass one more time, making a point out of putting the bottle away afterward.

"I was in love with a gypsy once," Giles said as he sat down again, "though I didn't know she was a gypsy when we met. We never married, but I think I may have liked to at some point. Her name was also Jenny."

"Did you kill yours too?" Quentin smirked as he drank.

"No. A vampire did."

Quentin nearly choked. "Sorry. That was uncivil of me."

"It's alright. I'm not sure why I brought her up."

"Attempting to commiserate?"

"Perhaps. I do find it hard to sympathize with a man of your… background."

Quentin chuckled. "A hundred years ago I was a greedy, hedonistic, amoral, bastard. I like to think I've had something of a turnaround since then."

"And Barnabas?"

Quentin glanced at the coffin taking up a corner of the living room. "As far as I can tell, he was never greedy or hedonistic - well. There was that fling in Martinique, but I think he's paid for that several times over," Quentin dryly commented as he took another sip. "As for amoral, he's murdered quite a few people, been party to kidnapping and such, but he was also fighting for his survival. The important thing is he came around to realizing just because he's a vampire, doesn't mean he has to be a monster."

#

Barnabas had had no trouble finding a victim, though his need for haste had necessitated rougher treatment than he usually liked. Still, she would remember nothing about him, nothing but a shadow and a voice in the dark. Now he flew over the town, taking in the unusual sights. Sunnydale was a strange place, with an unusual number of churches and graveyards. He'd passed over Miss Summers 'on patrol' in one of them not long ago, along with a young man he assumed to be Riley. Demonic vampires were plentiful here, along with other supernatural beings, no doubt either drawn or spawned by the Hellmouth.

It had been a very long time since he'd been in a different place. Being outside Collinsport was both intimidating and invigorating, though he missed the comfort of his home environs. He made his way back to Giles' apartment, and spotted two more familiar figures. The two young witches, Willow and Tara, were approaching Giles' home as well. Curious, he flew down closer, hovering before them a moment before changing his shape back into his usual form. "Good evening."

They both stared. "Hi," said Tara.

"Hello," said Willow. "That was really creepy."

"But also really cool," Tara added. Willow nodded, the surprise giving way to appreciation.

"Thank you, I think," Barnabas inclined his head, "I do not usually resort to such legerdemain, but I thought the less time I spent on the ground tonight, the better. Less chance of your Slayer mistaking me for one of her usual prey. What brings the two of you out here?"

"This is Giles' apartment," Tara said.

Barnabas nodded, "I am aware. My coffin is inside."

"Oh. Right," Tara smiled shyly. "that whole gentleman vampire thing."

He grinned. "Yes, that."

"Tara figured out how to track Angelique's summoner," Willow smiled at her as she said it, practically beaming with pride.

"That's remarkable," Barnabas was honestly impressed. He hadn't given much credit to the two young women having any real magical talent at first, but was quickly accepting the idea. "And now you're on your way to show Giles."

"And we thought it might help Quentin's mood," Tara nodded.

"Assuming Giles has managed to keep Quentin relatively sober," Barnabas said dryly. "I'll walk with you."

"Barnabas?" Tara asked as they walked, "Willow told me what happened with Angelique earlier tonight and I was wondering..."

"Yes?"

She fidgeted, "I'll totally understand if you tell me to mind my own business, but the stuff she said to you and Quentin. What was that about?"

He sighed. "Angelique managed to simultaneously belittle the woman Quentin loved and lost and accuse him of being nothing more than a murderer, something he has tried very hard not to be. He would go to hell and back for his Amanda - he did go to the underworld, in fact, but he failed to bring her with him, something he's never forgiven himself for."

"And Jenny?"

"The mad wife he abandoned. She killed him, and then he killed her. It's a long story."

"Oh."

"So then, what about you?" Willow asked.

He gave her a sidelong glance, "I suspect you're really asking about the kidnapping reference."

"And the brainwashing," Tara said quietly.

Barnabas was silent for a moment. He was matter-of-fact when he spoke, "In 1795, I was engaged to a woman called Josette. When she came to join me in Collinwood, her family brought their servant, Angelique. They didn't know Angelique and I had had a brief romance in Martinique before Josette and I were officially engaged. I didn't realize the extent to which she was obsessed with me. To which she still is. The full story is too long to go into now, but ultimately my rejection of Angelique's love led to her putting a curse on me. I would be forced to spend the rest of eternity feeding off of the blood of innocents, and everyone I loved would die. And they did. I begged my father to kill me, but instead he chained me inside my coffin in a secret room, condemning me to an existence of never-ending hunger and near-insanity inside a box."

"Oh god," Willow and Tara were horrified.

"If it weren't for a grave robber, I would still be there. Instead, I was released in the year 1966." He paused, gaze and tone becoming distant. "Can you imagine waking up in a world entirely different from your own? Knowing that everyone you've ever known is dead. The first few days were like a twisted dream, learning the rules of this new world, the changes in custom and dress and technology… it's enough to drive a man mad, even without the last memory of Josette haunting me for one hundred seventy years. The look of sheer terror and repulsion on her face at the sight of me, just before throwing herself off a cliff."

"That's the suicide Angelique mentioned," Willow quietly said.

"Yes. I thought that our love... She chose death instead." He fell silent, lost in memory a moment. "But then she was there, in 1966. It wasn't actually her of course, but the modern woman's resemblance was uncanny. I decided my Josette would live again through her."

"Hence the brainwashing and kidnapping and stuff," Tara said.

He nodded once. "I am not proud of it. It's one of the worst things I have ever done. She was a good woman, and deserved better."

"Is she still alive?" Tara asked.

"Last I heard, though that was years ago."

"Still," Willow said quietly, "that's..."

"As I said. I consider it to be one of the worst things I have ever done, and I have done a great many terrible things," they stopped at the top of the steps to Giles' door. Barnabas turned to meet Willow's eyes. "I do not ask for understanding or sympathy, but tell me, Willow. What would you do if the person you loved died in front of you, and there was nothing you could do to save them? To what lengths would you go to get them back?"

Willow gripped Tara's hand. "I don't know."

His smile was small and sad. "I hope neither of you ever experience that kind of loss."

"So do I."

"Well. Shall we inquire as to the sobriety of my cousin?"

Giles answered the door. "Barnabas - and Willow and Tara. What are you two doing here?"

"Tara figured out how to track the summoner," Willow said, "Barnabas ran into us on the way up."

"Flew into us, really," Tara said as they entered.

"Quentin, you look surprisingly coherent," Barnabas commented as he sat by his despondent cousin.

"He took away the bottle, and I'm trying to be on my best behavior," Quentin drawled with a sarcastic smirk. "I'm fine, Barnabas," he sighed, "Angelique rattled me, but I'm fine. Did the good witches really figure out a way to find the person who summoned her?"

"That is the claim, though you could ask them directly."

Quentin stood to face them, "My apologies. Do forgive me ladies, it's been a trying evening and I'm apt to be a little less genteel than usual. I've tried very hard to forget about everything Angelique made me remember tonight."

"That's ok," said Tara, "We wanted to come over and let everyone know right away. Thought we could all do with a bit of a morale boost. Though, I'm not sure the spell will even work -"

"Of course it'll work," said Willow.

"But we'll have to be in the library to do it," said Tara.

"Ah," said Giles.

"That is a slight complication," said Barnabas, "Angelique will not be pleased to see a rival casting in her presence."

"We're not rivals! We're trying to help!" said Willow.

"You're attractive young women with magical talent, that makes you rivals," said Quentin, "though you're not interested in Barnabas, so that'll work in your favor…" he gasped, clutching at his chest and side, bending over in pain.

"Quentin?" Barnabas was instantly alarmed, standing by him.

Quentin took a deep, hissing breath as he propped himself up on the back of the sofa, "No," he whispered, a cold shroud of dread covering his face, "it's impossible."

"What is it?"

"The change. It's happening."

"But your portrait!"

"Clearly isn't working!"

"It isn't even a full moon!"

"It doesn't seem to matter -" his voice cut off at the sharp jab in his abdomen, an electric spike arcing through his spine.

"Giles, what's happening?" Willow asked.

"His portrait doesn't just keep him from aging, it keeps him from turning into a werewolf."

"He's a werewolf?!" Willow stared at him as he howled in pain, the sound more animal than human.

"God! Barnabas," he grabbed his cousin's arm, "if I change… you kill me with that silver-headed cane of yours."

Barnabas's face was pensive. "It will not come to that."

"But if it does!" Quentin's legs gave out under him, sending him to his knees as he watched the skin of his hands change color, "Promise me," he growled through gritted teeth, "promise me that you will kill me the very instant anyone is in danger," his face was perfectly somber and human and in agony. "I've killed too many people in my life. I will not let myself hurt anyone else again. If the beast comes out, you kill it."

Barnabas's gaunt face shadowed with grief, but he nodded. "I swear it. You will not harm anyone tonight. Even if I have to kill you."

"I don't understand," Willow whispered, "it was never like this with Oz."

"It isn't a full moon," Giles said, "something else is forcing the transformation."

"We have to do something!" Tara said.

Giles shook his head, "I can't think of anything to do, this is unheard of!"

A wave of pain swept through Quentin's body and he howled, guttural and inhuman. His wrists felt as if they'd broken, his nails grown long and tipped with sharp, glittering claws, the hair on the back of his hands thick as fur. "Do it. Now."

Everyone watched with horror as Barnabas stood by his cousin, cane gripped tightly in one hand, the silver head raised up in preparation to strike, his face full of nothing but regret.

"No!" Willow shouted, stepping forward, her hands outstretched. Barnabas automatically took a step back as the air changed around them. "Whatever is forcing this transformation, I command it to stop! Without the power of the moon, you have no hold on him!" The air crackled as a forceful blast shoved Willow back a step, Quentin howling again in agony. She held firm, "He will remain unchanged tonight! The moon does not call for his transformation, and neither can you! I banish you!"

And then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

The pain in Quentin's muscles sputtered and died, leaving him cold on the floor. When he came around, passing a hand in front of his eyes, it was a perfectly normal, human hand he saw. "Oh thank god," he whispered, gladly taking Barnabas's proffered hand. "One hundred years without changing," he muttered as he stood, still weak in his legs, "and then to come so close, without even a full moon." He grasped his cousin's hand firmly. "Thank you. I know you would have done what needed to be done."

Barnabas squeezed Quentin's shoulder reassuringly, relief melting his stone countenance. "I am glad it did not come to that. You are the only person I can talk to about immortality. It would be frightfully dull without you."

"Ha. You hardly ever see me now."

"I am hoping to convince you to come back to Collinsport when this is all over."

"Ah, your ulterior motives are revealed," Quentin declared with a smile before turning to the exhausted Willow, "And you. I owe you my life."

Willow sat, waving it away with a small grin. "Don't mention it."

"I most certainly will," Quentin smiled.

"Well I couldn't just let you get bludgeoned to death!"

"You could have, and I wouldn't have blamed you a bit." He considered her carefully for a moment. "Angelique wasn't kidding when she said you have power. I'm afraid I discounted her comment because you're so young. I certainly won't make that mistake again."

Giles sighed. "Of course, we must consider that this is only a temporary reprieve. If the transformation could be triggered once -"

"It could be done so again," Quentin nodded. "Barnabas, either I leave, or we get Angelique the hell out of here."

Barnabas cocked his head slightly, an eyebrow raised. "'The hell' is exactly where I would like to send her back to."

"Willow and I can do the tracking spell tomorrow morning," Tara said. "At least, if we know who summoned her, it'll give us a starting point for sending her back."

"I don't like the idea of the two of you being there alone," said Giles, "but under the circumstances I think a guard should be set over Quentin tomorrow, at least until nightfall -"

"When Barnabas will be up, and willing to commit murder if necessary," Quentin finished.

"Don't make it sound like I'd enjoy it, or as if they wouldn't do it if necessary," Barnabas chided.

Quentin winced. "I wasn't trying to. Honestly, if someone has to kill me, I'd rather it be you. And as much as I don't like it, I have to agree that if the change can happen now, it can happen anytime, and that means I can't be trusted around people."

"Fortunately, we've got experience babysitting werewolves," Willow grinned.


	6. Chapter 6

Quentin spent the night on Giles' couch, with Barnabas standing guard until sunrise. He woke Giles just before retiring to his coffin, a sight Giles still found simultaneously laughable and disturbing. This vampire really did sleep in a coffin, and not only that, but actually needed to sleep there. He claimed he couldn't rest outside of it, hence why they'd suffered the inconvenience of bringing the damn thing in the first place. Of course, it had provided a convenient method of transporting the vampire as well. The lid closed, and Giles forced himself out of bed. They'd decided the safest option was for someone to watch Quentin at all times, just in case the transformation started again.

He was dressed and drinking a cup of tea when Anya arrived with a duffel bag full of silver weaponry. "Anya? I wasn't expecting you."

"Who else is going to deliver weapons this early? Buffy and Riley have class in a few hours, Tara and Willow are going to be busy in the library this morning, and I couldn't wake Xander." She looked at the coffin. "Oh. The vampire's staying with you."

"It's the only place I could guarantee him safety on such short notice," Giles muttered, glancing at the weaponry. "Can I offer you anything, Anya? Tea? Breakfast?"

"I ate before coming, thanks."

"Ah. Well, you won't mind if I fix myself something," he moved into the kitchen, "will you be staying all day?"

"Might as well. I don't have anything else to do."

"I see."

An awkward silence settled as Giles cooked.

"Xander will be coming?"

"Eventually," Anya nodded, apparently unperturbed by the lack of conversation or activity.

"Are you just standing there watching him?" Giles realized she'd been looking towards the couch the whole time.

"Well, what if he starts to transform in his sleep?"

"He'll wake up. It's extremely painful. We'll hear it."

"If you say so," she said doubtfully, turning towards Giles, "but if we're both killed by a stealthily transformed werewolf, it'll be your fault."

"In that unlikely occurrence, I'll take full responsibility."

"Little good it'll do us dead," she muttered.

#

The library was still closed, but a spell unlocked the door. "Barnabas isn't the only one with stealthy breaking and entering techniques," Willow smiled.

Tara smiled back as they quickly went inside, "His are a little more visually impressive," she said.

"Pff. For not resorting to 'legerdemain', he sure does show off a lot."

"I think he's been enjoying not having to worry about people being scared."

They made their way up to the second floor of the east wing. "Angelique?" Willow called.

"What are you doing here?" Angelique appeared in front of them, a suspicious frown on her face.

"We're going to try to find the person who cast the spell that summoned you here. If we can find them, we can ask what they did and maybe get you out," Willow said.

"Why?"

"Because no one should be trapped against their will," said Tara.

"And you're kind of causing a lot of trouble," added Willow.

"Hmpf. And just how do you intend to find the one who summoned me?"

"We've got a plan," Willow said, "Can you show us where exactly you appeared when you were summoned?"

Angelique sighed with a roll of her eyes and led them to one of the private study rooms. "It was in here."

"Studying magic in a study room," Tara said.

"Less study and more meddling," Willow grinned, and she and Tara started setting up the ritual.

Angelique watched, curious. "Oh I see," she said at length, "clever."

"Thanks," said Tara, a little unnerved at being complemented by an evil witch, but proud all the same.

"Assuming this works, what then?"

Willow and Tara looked at each other. "Well," said Willow, "I guess we undo it."

"And send me back to the underworld?" Angelique lightly scoffed, "I think not."

"We won't know for sure if we even can do anything else until we know how you got stuck in the first place," Willow pointed out, but Angelique shook her head.

"You could help free me. You have the power for it. There is so much potential within you, you reek with magic. Why you remain content, I cannot comprehend. You could do so much more."

"That's worked out really well for you so far, hasn't it?" Willow muttered.

"You can scoff at me now, trapped in this place, and I admit I have been humiliated. But there is power here, and I will use it to bring myself fully into the world again whether you help me or not. It may take a little longer is all."

"I think you've already demonstrated that patience is not your strong point."

Angelique sighed. "I was bored, and I wasn't paying attention to the full effects of my magic. I was careless. You can understand what that's like, or you will. Power is tempting, and it can become so easy to get… carried away."

Willow ignored her. The ritual was ready. Soon, an image of a young man's face appeared.

"Now we just have to find him and ask what spell he used," Tara said.

"Impressive, ladies," Angelique said. "Do know, however, that I will not be banished easily."

"We wouldn't expect you to be," Willow shook her head, "but you should know you're not the first evil witch we've ever fought, either."

"Evil? Such a strong word."

"You turned your ex into a vampire, and tried to make Quentin become a werewolf again. I'm pretty sure those aren't the sorts of things good witches would do."

Angelique blinked. "I do not feel the need or inclination to discuss Barnabas, but what did you just say about Quentin?"

"Last night, you tried to force him to change into a werewolf," Tara said. "He nearly changed right in front of us, but Willow stopped you… right?"

Angelique's eyes widened. "No. I was angry last night, and my range of influence is growing, but I did not bring forth the wolf."

"But, if you didn't," Tara said, "then who did?"

"No, it had to be you," said Willow, "you're the only one who knows about him, other than Barnabas, and he was with us too."

"What benefit would there be for me?"

"I don't know… but what other explanation is there?"

"I'm not sure. I'll have to think about it. Now go. If Quentin can be forced to change, your friends are in danger."

"I wouldn't be too worried," Tara said with more confidence than she felt, "Giles knows how to defend himself against a werewolf."

#

"I fold."

"Call. So," Xander looked up from his cards across the table, "werewolf."

Quentin looked back at him, face neutral. "Yes."

"Bit?"

"Gypsy curse."

"Huh."

"It's actually rather clever," Anya said, "raise five. Creative, especially the generational element."

Xander sighed. "Honey, I think we need another talk about tact."

"What? I'm just offering a professional opinion."

"Professional?" Quentin hadn't decided whether to be offended or simply skeptical.

Anya smiled a little. "I used to be a vengeance demon."

Quentin's brow rose. "Well, that explains a bit." He looked at Xander, "How did you two -"

"Long story," he looked at Anya, "which means I don't want to talk about it while playing poker."

Quentin grinned. "Raise six."

Xander shifted slightly in his seat, uncomfortable. "Call."

"Raise five," Anya said.

Quentin regarded her carefully. "I've never played cards with a former demon before."

"I've never played cards with an immortal dormant werewolf before."

"Raise three."

"Call," said Xander.

"Raise five."

Quentin looked at Xander, "You're calling for the sake of making me put more money in on the off chance I've been bluffing this whole time, but is she raising to force us to fold or does she actually have something?"

Giles chuckled. "Don't look at me, Xander, I folded. I'm just enjoying watching you three. And to be honest, I was wondering the same thing about Anya's hand."

"What about his hand?" Xander nodded towards Quentin, "He only asked for one card. He was either dealt something good or he's bluffing."

"Those are the two likeliest options, yes."

Xander sighed, and turned his attention to Anya. She looked back at him, a pleasant smile on her face, and completely silent. "This is what I get for dating a demon."

"Attempting to appeal to the human emotion of compassion won't work," Anya said, "I love you, of course, but this is poker."

Quentin laughed. "I like her."

Xander nodded once with a defeated grin. "And I fold."

"Raise five," Anya said.

Quentin said nothing, studying her for a moment with an amused grin on his face. "Do you think I'm bluffing?"

"I can't decide if your self-confident swagger is due to your hand or just the way you naturally behave. Or both."

"You don't know. And yet you've raised five every single time." The silence stretched as they locked eyes. "I call."

Anya shrugged and showed her three aces. Xander couldn't contain a triumphant 'ha', making Quentin smile. "Well. I knew you weren't bluffing. Fortunately, neither was I." Four queens fell to the table.

Xander's hands covered his face as Anya's jaw dropped. "What!"

"Sorry, my dear, it can't be helped," Quentin chuckled, "always did fancy myself something of a ladies' man."

"You could have made me put more in. I thought you were either bluffing or had something small."

He shrugged, "But then you might be out of the game, and I enjoy playing with you."

Giles cleared his throat as he gathered up the cards. "Well. Another hand? Xander, your turn to deal -" there was a knock on the door, "- hold on a moment."

It was Willow and Tara. "We've got good news and bad news," Willow said.

Quentin stood as they entered. "What's wrong?"

"Can we start with the good news, actually?" asked Xander.

"We found the person who summoned Angelique," said Tara.

"That's the good news," Willow nodded, "It was a student dabbling in magic, like you said," she said to Quentin, "but we've got the ritual he used and boy did he make a lot of weird substitutions -"

"What's the bad news?" Quentin interrupted, firm.

"Angelique's not the one responsible for last night," Tara said quietly.

Quentin's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"At least that's what she said," Tara started, but Quentin stalked across the room, agitated.

"No," he shook his head as he paced, "no, she's lying. She has to be lying," he swore through clenched teeth before taking a deep breath and glaring at Willow and Tara. "If it wasn't her, who was it? What was it?" he demanded.

"We don't know," Willow said.

"Stop looking at me like I'm a monster!" he snapped.

"I wasn't trying to, but you're being scary! You're pacing like, like an animal, and you look furious."

Quentin sighed, hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry. You don't understand, I," he looked up, most of the anger gone, replaced by a touch of fear, "I have to know if something is causing this, or if there's something wrong with my portrait. If there's any chance it's stopped working -"

"But it wasn't a full moon," Tara said, stepping forward. "If your portrait no longer stopped you from transforming, you would still need a full moon, wouldn't you?"

He met her eyes for a moment, a small relieved grin on his face. "I suppose so." He laughed quietly, "I apologize for being a paranoid idiot. You're right, of course. The curse requires a full moon, there's no reason why I should start changing without one."

A weight lifted off the whole room. "We still have to find out what caused it last night," said Willow, "I think Angelique was telling the truth. I mean, I don't know her like you do, but like she said, what benefit would there be for her to make you change?"

"And if she didn't, then what?"

"It's possible," Giles said, slowly, "that something else was summoned along with her."

Quentin stared at him. "You think she could be possessed?"

"Perhaps."

"Can you possess a ghost?" Xander asked.

Everyone shrugged. "Well, damn," Quentin muttered.


	7. Chapter 7

Riley watched Buffy pummel a boxing bag from a corner of the training room inside the Magic Box. "So Dorian Gray's a werewolf now."

"That's what Giles said on the phone."

"And the witch in the library has the power to make him turn, even without a full moon."

"Apparently."

"Why aren't you more freaked out by any of this?"

Buffy stopped and shrugged, "It's not like Quentin's the first werewolf I've ever met."

"I was more talking about the witch. She's not even really alive, and she's ridiculously powerful."

"Not powerful enough to get out of the library."

"She doesn't really need to if she can set a werewolf loose on the town."

"Yeah," Buffy shook her head, "I don't know, Riley, it's so… I feel like I can't do anything about what's going on in the library, so I'm just not thinking about it. What I can do is continue patrols and keep training. There are plenty of flesh and blood threats to Sunnydale that need my attention."

"Like genuine vampires that don't care where they sleep," Riley grinned.

Buffy smiled. "Or carry ornamental canes."

"You know, sometimes I wonder if he's actually a vampire."

"Giles says he is, and I'm not sure I really want to find out the hard way. I'll take his word for it."

"Yeah. Still. Hard to imagine that guy biting into someone's neck."

"I don't know. Lots of vampires don't look like vampires until they bring out the vamp face."

"Which Barnabas doesn't have, since he's not a demon, or so he says," Riley pointed out.

Giles opened the training room door. "Ah! There you are. There's been a development with the Angelique problem that I wanted you to know about."

"Is it something I can hit?" Buffy asked.

"I wish it were, just to get this nonsense over with. We think that Angelique might be possessed."

Buffy and Riley stared at him. "Sorry, what?"

"There is a strong probability that something else was summoned with her, and that it has been channeling her powers. If this is true, then there's no telling what might happen next. Be on your guard."

"So, if she can change Quentin whenever she wants," Riley started.

"Willow and Tara are with him now, along with Xander and Anya. Willow stopped it once, she can hopefully do it again if necessary." Giles interrupted.

"That's great and all," Riley continued, "but I was actually wondering about Barnabas."

"What about him?"

"He's got some sort of history with Angelique, right? What if she mind controls him or who knows what?"

Giles sighed. "If Barnabas Collins becomes a threat to the people of Sunnydale, then we will take care of it then."

"Giles?" Buffy said, "If I see him attack someone, I'm staking him."

Giles gave her an admonishing look. "He has a soul, Buffy. He's not a demon, he's cursed," his expression softened, "That being said, if Riley is right and Angelique can force him to kill, or if he simply decides to stop his gentlemanly pretense, we will do whatever is necessary. Now then. Since I'm here, we might as well do some proper training."

#

Giles had left Tara and Willow in charge of werewolf babysitting while he went to keep Buffy and Riley up to date. They assured Xander and Anya that they'd be fine if they wanted to get out for a bit, too. "How hard could it be after Oz?" Willow said.

"He's not Oz," Xander warned.

"I know that. But honestly, we'll be fine. I'm the one who stopped his transformation last time, after all. You and Anya should get some fresh air. You're kind of champing at the bit."

They didn't argue. Shortly after they left, Tara went to the kitchen for some tea. Quentin sat next to Willow on the couch. "Who was Oz?" he asked.

"Ex-boyfriend. He's a werewolf," Willow shrugged.

Quentin blinked. "You dated a werewolf."

"Yep. Every full moon, we'd have to lock him up in a cage and guard him until morning. He got out once or twice, but it worked out pretty well otherwise. Of course, then he slept with a girl wolf…" she shook her head, "sorry, too much info. Oz. Ex. Werewolf. Those are the important points."

"Did he remember what he did as a beast?"

"No. Do you?"

"I don't remember the act of killing them, but their ghosts haunted me every morning."

"Oh," Willow was wide-eyed, "That must be awful."

"It nearly drove me mad," Quentin's usual sardonic smirk didn't fool her, "I'm used to them now. One hundred years is a long time to acclimate, and I've become very good at forgetting."

"After such a long time, there must be a lot you've forgotten."

"Not as much as you'd think," he sighed, for once looking a little nearer his age, "I'm so tired of living, but I can't die. If I destroy my portrait, and it doesn't kill me instantly, the beast will come out, and I have no desire to experience that again…" he shook his head, attempting his rogue's smile and not quite succeeding, "And I'm too much of a coward to put a silver bullet in my brain."

"Maybe you're not a coward," Willow protested, "maybe you just really don't want to die!"

He grinned. "Perhaps. But I haven't a clue what else there could be to this life. I've traveled the world many times over, loved and lost over and over again, had every experience of pleasure I care to. Now I'm just tired. Tired and jaded, an old man trying to carve out a place in this constantly changing world, far removed from my fondest memories of it. I just can't keep up anymore."

"Then maybe you should stop trying. I mean, not like, stop trying living. I mean stop trying to keep up. You know, don't travel for a while, just… rest. Go home."

"I don't have a home, not anymore."

"But you could, couldn't you?" Tara came out of the kitchen, cups of tea in her hands, which she distributed to the three of them. "I mean, you're a Collins. Couldn't you go back to Collinsport?"

He laughed to himself, "I don't imagine this prodigal son would get a warm welcome."

"Maybe it's changed."

"Collinsport never changes."

"Isn't that what you're looking for? A break from the way the world changes?"

He was quiet for a moment, and smiled at her, small but genuine. "Maybe. Don't you dare tell Barnabas I'm even considering it."

Tara smiled back. "My lips are sealed."

The phone rang. Willow answered. "Hello? Oh, hi Dawn. Well, we can't really come over right now - no, we won't be back at the dorm soon either I don't think - you know we'd love to help, but you're just going to have to figure it out yourself. Ask your mom - oh. What subject is it?" Willow looked at Quentin and smiled. "History? Well. If your mom is ok with dropping you off over here -" Willow glanced at the receiver, suddenly gone silent. "Well. Dawn's coming over."

"How did she know we were here?" Tara asked.

"We weren't home and we weren't at the Magic Box, so she tried here. She sounded really desperate."

Quentin crossed his arms, "What did you just volunteer me for?"

"I didn't!"

"It was implied."

She smiled a little. "Just a bit of homework help."

Quentin's raised brow was a perfect picture of skepticism. "I am hardly a tutor."

Willow and Tara didn't say anything. It wasn't long before Dawn arrived, in a slight state of panic. "I desperately need your help," she said as she came inside, her school bag over her shoulder, "no one was at the Magic Box and you weren't at home and Mom is useless -"

"History homework?" Tara asked.

"Oh, hey Tara, hi Quentin," Dawn waved, "yes, it's history. I hate history."

"That makes two of us," Quentin muttered.

Willow and Tara rolled their eyes. Willow sat on the sofa with Tara and Quentin as Dawn spread her stuff out on the floor in front of them. "What's the assignment?"

"We're supposed to write a report on a day in the life of the average person in our assigned historical eras," Dawn sighed, unpacking a couple large textbooks, "and I've got the nineteen-oh's. And it has to be from the point of view of an average person, no politics or anything like that. A 'snapshot of everyday life,'" she highlighted the phrase with air-quotes.

"Still, that's not hard to find information for -" Willow started, but Dawn cut her off.

"And it's due tomorrow," Dawn smiled sheepishly.

Quentin gave a short laugh, and made his way to Giles' liquor cabinet.

"Um. Isn't it a little early for a drink?" Dawn asked.

"Never too early, my dear. Besides," he poured himself a generous measure of brandy, "if I'm going to play the role of storyteller, I'm going to need fortification. I'm sure Giles will understand."

"Storyteller?"

"You could smile a little less, witch," he said with a glare at Willow, though there was humor in it. He sighed with a sarcastic grin. "Alright, Dawn, get it over with. What do you need to know about the best years of my life back in 1900?"

They were still working when the sun went down. Willow was helping Dawn come up with "sources" for all the information Quentin had given her when everyone jumped at the creak of coffin hinges. They watched at Barnabas sat up, apparently in deep concentration.

"Barnabas?" Quentin asked.

Barnabas glanced at him, his gaze passing over the women, lingering a little too long on Dawn. He got down and got out of the house, without so much as a word.

"Oh, no," Quentin whispered, leaping up to follow him.

"What? What oh no?" Willow asked.

"I have to go after him," Quentin opened the door, and swore. "A bat. Damn it, Barnabas."

"Quentin, what's wrong?" Tara asked.

"He's gone to feed."

"But I thought he didn't kill people when -"

"Not normally, but something's got his bloodlust up tonight. Something… or someone… Willow! You have to think of something, we have to find him."

"What's going on?" asked Dawn.

"Your Slayer sister is going to kill Barnabas tonight, because he's not going to take the usual precautions. She's going to find him standing over a woman's dead body if we don't get to him," Quentin snapped, "and I can't let that happen!"

"Buffy wouldn't -"

"No? Why not? That's what she does, isn't it, kill vampires?"

"Not if they're nice!"

That was enough to give Quentin pause. "How many vampires do you know?"

"Quentin, how can you tell Barnabas is going to kill someone tonight?" Tara asked, keeping them focused.

"He wouldn't have got out of here so fast otherwise," Quentin started to pace, "Barnabas Collins is always the pinnacle of propriety," he said with mocking tone, "he'd have at least said good evening! The look on his face," he became deadly serious, "you'll have to take my word for it that the look on his face was that of a predator on a hunt. The fact that he was able to control himself long enough to get away from you three means we might be able to reason with him, but first we need to find him."

Willow nodded, "I think I can do it but, even if I find him, how will we stop him without hurting him?"

"I've got an idea. It's not a pleasant one, but it might work."


	8. Chapter 8

Barnabas did not have to fly far, and likely couldn't have if he'd wanted to. The hunger warred against all his rational thought until he descended into an alley by a club, the music drowned out by the pulsating heartbeats of everyone inside. Sheer experience held him back; he had to wait for prey to wander out to him, or he would attract attention. It took all his concentration to resist going in and taking the neck of the first tender young thing he saw, and he knew he would feast when the time came. He was so distracted by the thought of gorging himself on warm blood that he didn't notice he'd been followed.

A hand touched his shoulder from behind. "Barnabas, stop!" Quentin cried out as Barnabas spun around to grab him, fangs out as he slammed him against the alley wall, hand around Quentin's throat.

"Why have you followed me?" Barnabas demanded.

"I had to stop you."

Barnabas snarled, his grip on Quentin's neck tightening, "This is none of your concern. You have no idea what it's like, the hunger -"

"The urge to kill? To take what you want, to let the monster out?" Quentin grinned bitterly, "Like hell I don't. It _never_ goes away. My portrait stops the physical transformation, but that creature is always there, gnawing at me, just at the edge of my mind, howling in my dreams as I see the faces of everyone I killed, so don't you dare tell me I don't know what it's like to fight off the monster inside me."

"Your life doesn't depend on it!" Barnabas shouted, "Mine does! I must feed in order to survive!"

"But you don't have to kill!" Barnabas released him and turned away, signalling the discussion was over. "I can't let you just fly off somewhere else to feed either."

"Then stop me -" the smell of fresh blood assaulted him, halting his words as he turned around. A pocket knife was in Quentin's hand, a bloody gash across his forearm.

"You want blood so badly tonight?" Quentin shrugged, "I've got plenty and I can't die. Drink up."

Barnabas stared at the blood running down Quentin's arm, hesitating... but only for a moment. Quentin didn't even see him move, but suddenly he was there, fangs piercing the cut, making Quentin cry out. He felt his energy fading as Barnabas drank, growing dizzy. It was not unlike being drunk, he mused. He had no concept of how much time had passed when Barnabas finally stopped.

Barnabas took a few steps back, eyes still on Quentin's bloody arm, but in repulsion instead of hunger. "What happened to me?"

"You weren't yourself," Quentin muttered, slowly sitting down to wait for the world to stop spinning, "you were in a frenzy of bloodlust. I had to stop you from killing anyone."

Barnabas slowly nodded. "I haven't felt like that in over a century. If you hadn't stopped me... "

"You did the same for me, when I felt the change coming on."

"I didn't stop you, I was going to kill you."

Quentin shrugged, "Same difference."

Barnabas shook his head in tender admonishment. "It is not, but I won't debate it with you here. And while the blood flowing down your arm to the tips of your fingers was an effective visual aid, it was excessive," he gestured to the gash, now no longer bleeding freely but still open.

"I heal fast," Quentin groaned as he stood up, "How much did you take? I feel awful."

"I would have killed a normal human," Barnabas said as he steadied Quentin, "Lean on me. How did you manage to follow me?"

"The witches tracked you."

"That doesn't answer my question - ah." Dawn was gesturing they should hurry up from the backseat window of a car by the alley. "You stole a car."

"None of them own one and Giles was off somewhere with his."

"I understand the need for the witches, but did you have to bring the child?"

"She's a teenager. There wasn't time to argue."

Tara got out of the car, "Quentin's going in the back with me and the first aid kit. Dawn, move up front with Willow."

"Willow can drive?" Dawn asked.

"I can drive!" Willow said, with some hesitation, "basically. I mean, we won't be going fast... at all... but I can at least get us back."

"Well," Quentin sighed with a grin at his cousin, "that still makes her a better driver than you." Barnabas rolled his eyes.

"What did he mean by that?" Dawn asked as she got out.

"He's still bitter that I hit him with a car thirty years ago," Barnabas said as he opened the front door for her.

"You what?"

"To be fair, I was under the influence of an evil cult at the time."

"Excuses," Quentin said, "Drive, Willow!"

"I'll follow from above," Barnabas said as he closed Dawn's door and morphed into a bat.

Dawn gasped, "That is so cool!"

"Hmpf. Legerdemain," Willow muttered.

#

Giles was waiting for them when they returned. "What on earth happened?" he said as Quentin walked inside. He'd mostly recovered from the dizziness, but he was still obviously weak.

"I had a very bad idea," he muttered as he collapsed onto the couch.

"I'm afraid it's my fault," Barnabas descended in the doorway.

"No, it's not your fault," Quentin protested with a groan, "it was my idea. Should have just let you eat someone."

Giles looked at Willow and Tara. "Could someone explain what happened? And Dawn, what are you doing here?"

"We were helping her with homework," Tara said.

"Quentin, too," Dawn added.

"And when Barnabas, um, woke up, he was acting a little weird and left right away so -" Willow started.

"- Quentin rightly recognized the state of bloodlust I was in and decided to come after me," Barnabas finished, "He stopped me from hurting anyone by sacrificing his own blood to the effort. I'm afraid I... wasn't easy on him."

"Not his fault," Quentin repeated, sitting up straight and looking stronger than before, "you said so yourself, Barnabas, it's been a long time since you felt it that powerfully."

Barnabas nodded, "That is true. I do not think I was entirely in control of myself. It was not a pleasant experience."

Giles frowned. "You think that whatever triggered Quentin's transformation last night made you… more vampiric than normal tonight?"

Barnabas winced at the underlying skepticism. "I am not 'more' or 'less' of a vampire at any given moment. But the hunger does change. Some nights are easier to resist than others. I'd like to say it was simply a matter of being satiated, but that is not always the case. Tonight… tonight was different. It was sudden and intense, more primal than I've ever felt, even in the first days after my death."

"Wait, did he say Quentin's transformation?" Dawn whispered to Tara, who nodded and gestured she be quiet.

"We'll explain later," Willow said before asking, "If something is doing all of this, what's the point?"

"It's playing with us, whatever it is," said Quentin.

"Then you don't believe it's Angelique?" Giles asked.

"Or if it is her, she is not the one in control," Quentin said, "She'd have nothing to gain by any of this."

"Which leaves the question of what is responsible," Barnabas glowered, "What else did that silly child conjure up from Hell?"

"Before it gets any later, I think I should take Dawn home," Giles said. Especially with Barnabas unpredictable, he thought to himself.

"What?" Dawn objected, "No, I want to help!"

"Your mother would have my head on a plate," Giles said.

"You're exaggerating. I won't be in the way, I promise," Dawn begged.

"There is nothing you can do now," said Barnabas, gently, "though we do appreciate your intention. It is reassuring to have allies, even if they are teenage girls trying to get out of going home."

Dawn pouted a little. "I'm not just trying to not go home. I want to be useful."

"You will have plenty of opportunities to be useful in your life, but not as many opportunities to spare your mother worry. Go home, Dawn."

She sighed. "Fine."

Giles assured them he'd be back shortly. After they left, Quentin looked at Barnabas, amused. "The amazing part is that you didn't have to hypnotize her."

Barnabas smiled a little. "I had a sister, once. Willow, was there anything about the ritual that might provide a clue to Angelique's possessor?"

Willow blinked at the sudden topic shift, "Oh! Hang on," she rummaged through her bookbag, "I copied it down, the original and the substitutions." She pulled out her notebook and came around the sofa to sit next to Quentin. Tara sat beside her, and Barnabas stood behind to look over their shoulders. Willow flipped past pages alternately filled with class notes and magical research til she found the one she was looking for. "See? Here's the original, and here's what was actually used."

"Granted, it's been quite some time since I summoned up anything," Quentin said, puzzled, "but this seems..."

"Yeah, it's kind of ridiculous it worked," Willow nodded.

"It's so jumbled," said Tara.

"Could you explain what he was trying to accomplish," Barnabas asked, "for those few of us with little experience in summoning spells?"

Willow went through the original intent of the ritual and then contrasted it with the ritual that was cast, giving a detailed and far more energetic account of each change than either Collins had anticipated. Neither had the heart to interrupt her, she was obviously enjoying herself, and honestly neither were certain they'd be able to stop her if they'd tried.

She'd nearly finished when Giles returned. Quentin smoothly took the notebook from Willow as she was mid-sentence and placed it in Giles' hands the minute he was within reach.

"Good lord, I'm amazed this worked at all!" Giles exclaimed.

"I know, right?" said Willow.

"He was attempting to summon a succubus? What are children learning in school these days... ah, and he made some crucially inept substitutions, shifting the entire emphasis of the summons towards a spirit of vengeance," Giles summarized.

Quentin grinned. "And he got Angelique."

"Lust and vengeance are certainly her two most enduring qualities," Barnabas muttered, "or perhaps lust for vengeance."

"Still, it's strange that she of all possibilities should respond," Giles said.

"The 'new and improved' version has some voodoo elements," Quentin pointed out, "and Angelique was from Martinique."

"Yes, she was very skilled with that sort of thing," Barnabas nodded, "using dolls to inflict torture and raising zombies."

"Zombies?" Tara asked.

"Of the traditional sort, not the grotesque monsters you see in cinemas," Barnabas clarified.

"You go to the movies?" Quentin asked, equally surprised and amused.

"Of course. My bite looks like a moment of passion in the back of the theater in the dark, and occasionally the films are entertaining."

"I don't think mere incorporation of fetishes would be enough," Giles raised his voice to get them back on track, shaking his head, "and while I'm willing to accept the possibility of Quentin wandering into town by luck, I think there must have been something unintentionally done to specifically summon Angelique."

"Would a butchery of Latin suffice?" Barnabas asked.

"What do you mean?"

"This phrase here," he walked over and gestured to the original ritual, "I believe it's a reference to Lilith, and the origin of the first succubus?"

"So it seems. There are some sources that claim she mated with an angel, along with four other succubi."

"Well, what if instead of 'angeli', he said 'angelique?'"

Everyone stared at him.

"My god," said Quentin.

"It couldn't be that simple!" said Willow.

"With everything else thrown into this mess of a ritual, it wouldn't surprise me," Giles said, handing the notebook back to Willow. "Do you have a diagram of the ritual space?"

Willow flipped a few pages to a comparison between what the ritual should have looked like and what was actually drawn out.

"Well. That's different," Giles said, mildly bewildered. "Massively more complicated than necessary."

"This boy really had no idea what he was doing," Quentin said, equally amazed.

"Are those hieroglyphics?" Barnabas asked.

"He said he threw in a bunch of Egyptian symbolism on top of everything else, because it 'looked better,'" Tara mentioned.

"Egyptian?" Quentin grabbed the notebook, examining it closely, "Yes. Hieroglyphics just like," he dropped it absently onto Willow's lap as he stood, wandering a couple steps deep in thought, "just like what we saw in Alexandria, before..."

"Alexandria!" Barnabas stared at him, shocked.

"What are you talking about?" Giles demanded.

"It wouldn't surprise me," Quentin grinned bitterly, "but why hasn't she show herself? Why haven't we been struck down by pillars of fire by now?"

"Because she isn't completely here," said Barnabas, "Her spirit is what's possessing Angelique, using her powers to augment her own, and delighting in torturing us, having a little petty revenge while she's at it."

Giles hit the sofa, making Tara and Willow jump. "Who are you talking about!"

Barnabas and Quentin looked at each other, then at Giles. "Laura Murdoch Collins," Barnabas said, "I suppose she might be best described as a human phoenix."

"A what?!" everyone looked at him and Quentin like they were crazy.

"Laura was part of a cult that worshiped the Egyptian sun god Ra, but a dark cult, twisted over time," Quentin explained.

"I first met her when I was a boy in the 18th century," Barnabas continued, "she was the first wife of my uncle and died in a fire."

"I knew her in the 19th century," Quentin said, "she was my brother's wife. We ran away together to Alexandria, where she was sacrificed by another cult. She was supposed to have died in the fire, but she came back to Collinwood a year later."

"You let your mistress be sacrificed?" Giles asked, appalled.

"It was her or me," Quentin said, "Hedonistic, immoral bastard, like I told you. Didn't really matter in the long run, because she came back."

"And I recognized her immediately," Barnabas said, "as the same woman from a hundred years before."

"So she was reincarnated after 100 years," Giles said, "but how did she return only a year after being killed in the 19th century?"

"She made some sort of deal with Ra," Quentin said, "and he let her come back, with all the power necessary to retrieve her children and take them with her."

"Take them where?" Tara asked.

"The underworld," Barnabas said, "She was consumed by her own flame before she had the chance. Her time ran out."

"Thanks to the two of you, I presume," Giles said.

"And Lady Luck," Quentin scoffed as he helped himself to a glass of brandy, "Gentlemen, and ladies, if Laura Collins is possessing Angelique Bouchard, then we are in a great deal of trouble."

Barnabas shook his head. "She must know. Angelique must be aware of what is going on, she is more powerful than Laura ever was."

"Laura gave her a run for her money, remember? Angelique succeeded in defeating her through trickery more than brute strength," Quentin said.

"Then you'll have to resort to trickery again," Giles said, "and we will need to secure Angelique's help."

"Of course," Barnabas dryly commented, "I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear she's not completely under her own control."

"Have fun with that, Barnabas, I'll stay here and hold down the fort, away from the vengeful witch possessed by the mistress I left for dead," Quentin declared, raising his glass with sarcastic enthusiasm.

"Oh no, Quentin, that won't do at all," Barnabas smiled, "You're the only one who can stop me if my bloodlust should overwhelm me, and I am responsible for you should the wolf come to call again. We're stuck together."

"Isn't there some sort of chosen one in this town who's supposed to deal with supernatural entities?" Quentin asked.

"Unfortunately, even Slayers can't stab an incorporeal being," Giles said. "Most of the time, we figure out what the ghost wants, or we exorcise it. Neither are a possibility now, and so we turn to the only two people in the universe who have any sense of what is going on."

"And one of them's you," Tara shrugged with a grin at Quentin.

Quentin sighed. "As a serious question, how are you going to keep Angelique-Laura from turning me into a werewolf or Barnabas into a bloodthirsty monster, or both at the same time?"

"Ah," Giles was silent a moment, "Excellent question."

"We take Willow and the Slayer with us," Barnabas softly said, "If we can't be reasoned with, then at least we will not harm anyone."

Everyone was silent a moment before Quentin nodded with a shrug. "I was getting tired of living anyway."


	9. Chapter 9

There was no point in waiting. Barnabas flew to the campus ahead of Giles, who dropped off Willow, Tara and Quentin. Giles instructed them to wait for him in front of the library while he gathered some supplies and the rest of the team. They didn't have to wait long before Xander and Anya arrived, carrying crossbows. Barnabas raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing personal," Anya said.

"I take no offense, but I wonder if you actually know how to use those? I haven't seen one in over a century."

"We've got the basics down," Xander said, "this isn't exactly our first rodeo. Or archery-related metaphor of your choice."

"Why did Giles insist on involving everyone?" Quentin asked.

"You're going to need all the help you can get, right?" Xander said, "I realize we don't look like much, we don't have supernatural abilities or magical powers, but this isn't the first time we've saved the town. Or the world, for that matter."

"Though to be honest, Buffy's the one who typically does the saving," Anya stated.

"We help!" Xander protested, "Team effort!"

"And the Slayer won't be any use against a ghost," Anya continued.

"We've got two witches."

"Young and relatively inexperienced ones."

"Again with the pessimism."

"It's not pessimism, it's realism."

"We could send the two of you in first," Giles said as he joined them, with Riley and Buffy close behind, "your bickering would be enough to drive out any spirit." Xander and Anya quieted as Giles continued, "We'll spread out when we get inside, with Xander, Anya and Riley around the perimeter to act as backup should Barnabas or Quentin lose control. Tara, Willow, Buffy and I will remain close by the Collinses. I grabbed some materials from the Magic Box that might help with the magical element, particularly the Egyptian focus," he gestured to the briefcase he was carrying.

"We're trusting that people who fight demons regularly are going to give us the benefit of the doubt should something look 'off,'" Quentin grumbled.

"We don't have much choice," Barnabas said.

"I don't like the idea of having silver bullets pointed at me."

"I don't like the idea of arrows aimed at my heart, but if she can force you to transform and me to feed -"

"I know, I know," Quentin put a hand up in surrender, "I'm not arguing, just… voicing my discontent at having soldier-boy point a gun at me."

Riley smiled, "I promise not to shoot until I see fur."

"That makes me feel so much better," Quentin scoffed.

"Wait," Buffy said to Barnabas, puzzled, "you're serious? You actually want us to kill you if something goes wrong."

"It was his idea for the Slayer to be present," Giles said, smiling inwardly at Buffy's confusion.

"I would of course prefer a less permanent solution," Barnabas said, "but yes, Miss Summers, if Quentin or I should become reduced to mindless monsters, then kill us rather than risk harm coming to anyone else."

Buffy met his eyes. He seemed serious, and worried. For some reason, Buffy was sure he was worried, not that she would kill him, but of what might happen if she didn't. She nodded, "Ok, Barnabas. What's going to happen when we get in there? What are you going to do?"

"Talk."

"Talk? That's it?"

"Yes. No one is to interrupt. Try not to draw attention to yourselves, no matter what happens. I do not know the extent of Laura's influence on Angelique, but I do know that Angelique will be furious to learn of it if she hasn't already figured it out."

"And that means she'll be unpredictable, at best," Quentin said.

"Above all, if Quentin or I tell you to run, you run," Barnabas said, his expression dark. "Run as fast as you possibly can," he looked at each of them, "I do not care how powerful you are. If I tell you to run, you will do it."

Up until then, Buffy and her friends hadn't thought much about Barnabas being a vampire. Even Tara and Willow, who had at least seen the end result of Barnabas feeding on Quentin, didn't quite grasp the nature of the man in front of them. He was a curiosity more than anything else.

In that moment, however, no one had any trouble imagining Barnabas as a deadly creature of the night. He emanated a predatory power, commanding control of their attention. Certain that they had listened, he walked towards the library door. "Let us begin."

It was dark inside, as it had been every other night. The security lights cast a dim glow over each floor, but seemed to do little good. Barnabas stopped at the feel of a hand on his arm. It was Riley. He gestured that Barnabas should stay in the middle of the room, then indicated positions for everyone else. Barnabas grinned. He was not accustomed to taking orders, but would defer to the young man with military experience for the moment.

"Never did much care for military men," Quentin muttered as he came beside Barnabas.

"Did you ever know any?"

"Plenty. Fought in two wars."

Barnabas was skeptical, "I have difficulty imagining you on the front line."

"God, no," Quentin smirked, "Covert missions, one man jobs. Gave me something to do."

Everyone had settled into their positions around the room. Giles, Willow and Tara were behind Barnabas and Quentin, a couple books on the table before them, briefcase opened to reveal a variety of magical paraphernalia. Anya stood to their left, crossbow at the ready. Above them, at sniper positions on the second floor, were Xander and his crossbow, and Riley with his gun and silver bullets. Buffy was on the right side of the room, stake in hand.

"I'm surprised Angelique hasn't shown up yet, demanding answers," said Quentin.

"She must be distracted," Barnabas said softly, "I'll call to her."

"I'll be right behind you," Quentin said, and stepped back to stand by Giles.

Barnabas waited a few moments in silence, hoping he wasn't about to condemn them all to death… of a permanent sort. "Angelique?" he called.

"Barnabas," she appeared before him, "what do you want?"

She was distracted, that was immediately obvious. She hadn't even noticed the circle of people around her. "Is there something on your mind?"

"The two good little witches told me Quentin nearly changed last night."

"Yes. And tonight I found myself in a fit of bloodlust more powerful than I have ever felt."

"And you think I had something to do with it?"

Barnabas was puzzled by her concern. She seemed worried, which was not an expression that often crossed Angelique's face. "Not exactly. We think that perhaps something else was summoned up with you, accidentally. Have you felt the presence of any other force here with you?"

Angelique frowned. "I believe so. I hadn't noticed at first simply because of all the powers around this place, but after those girls told me about Quentin, I started to suspect I was not alone. Someone else is here with me, some other spirit, but I cannot determine who or what."

That explained the worry. "Our suspicion is on Laura Collins."

"Laura!" Angelique was shocked, "That… that tart with the Egypt obsession from the 19th century?!"

Barnabas smiled in spite of himself. "Yes, that one." His smile vanished as he sighed, "I mean no offense, but is it possible that you have not entirely been in control of your actions recently? Are there any gaps in your memory?"

"You think I'm possessed? You think that I, Angelique, could become possessed by the likes of -"

"Spare me your indignant ranting and answer the question. Please."

She was silent for a long moment. "There might be gaps. Small ones, just brief moments where I'm not completely sure of what I was doing at the time. Earlier tonight, for example. Or last night. Spans of nothing more than several minutes and a vague sense of… disassociation. When a person goes into a room and completely forgets why they went in in the first place, that sort of sensation."

"Then it is possible."

"Yes," she glared, "it is. And I will not stand for it."

"Angelique, wait!" but there was no stopping her. Her voice was low and steady as she chanted her spell, rising in volume with each repetition, the room growing dark but for a soft sickly pale glow emanating from her skin.

"Barnabas?" Quentin spoke behind him, "What's going on?"

"She's trying to exorcise Laura," he said, taking two wary steps back.

A new voice suddenly laughed from the ether, "I am not without powers of my own."

Flames erupted in a circle around Angelique, startling her. "Fire!" her eyes widened, voice rising in panic, "Barnabas, get me out of here!"

"He can't help you now," Laura's voice echoed from the flames. "He can't even help himself."

Barnabas gasped, knuckles white as he gripped the head of his cane, the edges of his vision going black as a surge of hunger hit him as a tidal wave. "How are you doing this?" he snarled, fangs extended.

"Blood is something my patron is quite accustomed to. Ra's daughter has a taste for that sort of thing. Add Angelique's control of your curse, and it's so simple."

Buffy watched Barnabas carefully. He was fighting it, that was certain. He sank to his knees, bent over in agony as he struggled to keep control of himself. Giles scanned the pages of the books he'd brought. "Here. Willow and Tara, I'll need your help with this. Quentin -"

"Distraction. Right." He walked towards the flames with as much arrogant swagger of his youth as he could muster. "Leave him alone, Laura!"

"Quentin," venom dripped from the voice, "how I'm going to enjoy this."

"You couldn't beat me when you were alive, you sure as hell won't beat me now," he taunted, "no matter how many gods you may pander to!"

"You weren't cursed like you are now," Laura said, "such a convenient affliction, if one has the power to take advantage of it."

Angelique screamed, "No! Get out of my head!"

"You have to fight her, Angelique!" Quentin shouted.

"The fire…"

"Some witch," Laura laughed. "Scared of a few flames. Are you so terrified of burning? Or can you simply not stand being confronted with mortality?" The flames rose higher and Quentin felt the pain starting. It was slow, slower than ever happened during a moon, but undeniably the beginning.

"It's not like you, Angelique," he said through gritted teeth, "to let someone else play with your toys."

Willow whispered to Giles, "Giles, Quentin -"

"I know, but we must focus on this ritual if anything good is to come of this. He's giving us the distraction we need."

"Until he turns into a werewolf and kills us!"

Quentin screamed, falling to his knees as he writhed in pain. It was an agonizing cry that sent shivers down the spine of everyone there. Laura wasn't just forcing the transformation, she was making it happen slowly, torturing him with it. Buffy almost didn't hear Barnabas saying her name. She crept closer.

"I'm going to attack you," he said, voice low and thick, "make it convincing." He lunged, fangs bared and pinned her to the floor. She'd been so surprised by the sudden image of a movie vampire that she hadn't reacted in time. Barnabas leaned over her neck and was swiftly thrown through a table and hit the wall. Buffy raised her stake and approached the prone vampire, but went down as he kicked her feet out from under her. She sprang up, and he threw her back towards the fire. She tumbled as she hit the ground, coming up close enough to Angelique to see her watching through the flames.

'Make it convincing,' Barnabas had said. Suddenly he was beside her, and she let him hit her, falling back to the ground. A crossbow bolt hit his shoulder, making him hiss, the act of ripping the bolt out distracting him just enough for Buffy to leap up with her stake raised…

"No!" Angelique screamed. Buffy sailed through the air a few feet, propelled by some invisible force. Quentin's transformation stopped, and Barnabas shook his head, dazed, before moving back away from the fire. The sounds of chanting reached his ears; Giles and the witches.

"Do you hear them?" Angelique laughed, "Do you hear those mortals conjuring your new patron? Sekhmet will not be pleased to learn of your petty vengeance, and your complete failure to honor Ra, yet again!"

"No!" Laura shouted, "No, I won't allow it!"

"You? I'm not afraid of your fires any more, Laura Collins. You have no hold on me, and you will _never_ touch my Barnabas again." Thunder sounded, and a gust of wind blew. A lion's roar rang out, deafening. "Sekhmet is coming!" Angelique taunted.

"What manner of deity have they summoned?" Barnabas asked as he helped Quentin stand up.

"Sekhmet is the lioness-headed goddess of war, fire, vengeance, and medicine, ironically enough."

"It would appear fire and vengeance are at the forefront tonight," Barnabas dryly commented as they joined Giles and Willow, who had stopped chanting as soon as they'd heard the roar. Buffy and Anya joined them as well, while Riley and Xander remained upstairs, taking cover under tables, watching from above.

Angelique had begun her own petitioning of the goddess. "Sekhmet! Daughter of Ra! Take your servant back to the underworld! Banish she who has been unfaithful to Ra, who has squandered his power!" A snarling roar sounded again, a gust of wind howled, and flames began to rise. "No. No, wait, not me!"

"If I go, you go!" Laura's voice rang out, and the flames erupted, filling the room, surrounding everyone.

Willow gripped Tara's hand, "We have to put them out!" Together they focused their powers on the fires, forcing the ones closest to them to die down, but there were far too many.

"Hey!" Xander called from the second floor, "Help!" The fires had reached him and Riley as well. They were trapped between the banister and a sea of flame.

"Angelique!" Barnabas called, "You must help put out the fire! Willow and Tara can't do it alone!"

"All my powers are keeping me here! I'll be pulled back to the underworld!" she cried. "I won't go back! I won't!"

"Damn it, Angelique," Quentin shouted, "If you don't save us, we'll all die!"

Barnabas disappeared, reappearing in the circle of flame surrounding Angelique. "You must help us."

"You could still escape -"

"I will not leave them behind. I am begging you, Angelique, for once in your life, think of someone else!"

Angelique stared at him. "I have always been there for you."

"Your concern for me is only concern for yourself." He sighed, the bitterness giving way to something almost like tenderness, "I have seen you care for others, Angelique. It is a rare thing, but it has happened. Help those two witches. Save us. Please."

She was silent a moment. "Don't move," she whispered.

Willow and Tara felt a surge of power course through them. The flames began to die out as Laura screamed in frustration.

"You're doing it," Barnabas said softly, amazed.

"I must admit, they are helping," Angelique grinned. She'd never tell him, but the look of approval Barnabas favored her with sent a wave of satisfaction through her. "Concentrate, sisters!" she called to the young witches.

"Sekhmet! Ra!" Laura's voice called out, desperate, "Do not abandon me!"

"It's too late! Be banished!" Angelique shouted in triumph as the last of the flames died. Everything went perfectly still.

"She's gone," Barnabas said as he looked around the room. Everyone was alive and unharmed, if perhaps a bit scorched. "Angelique, you did it… You're fading!"

She nodded, "The spell that brought me here opened a door to let me through. Now it's closing again, as I knew it would. I was using much of my power to keep it open, to keep me here. I had to let the door close in order to keep you safe."

Barnabas inclined his head in gratitude, "Then I must thank you for your help."

She laughed, a little bitterly, "I willingly sacrifice my chance at life again for you, and you 'thank' me."

"What would you have me do?" Barnabas asked, stern, "Tell you I love you? The last time I did that was in 1841, and I woke the next sunrise desperate for the shelter of a coffin. It was an unpleasant way to discover your lifting of my curse was only temporary." Angelique was silent, her image continuing to slowly fade. Barnabas sighed, expression softening again, "All these years, and you still don't understand. Your jealousy will not permit you to release me until I love you, and my pride will not permit me to love you until you release me."

She reached out to touch his wounded shoulder, hand passing through. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

She smiled a little. "Good. Goodbye, Barnabas."

"Goodbye, Angelique."

And she was gone.

Barnabas stood silently a moment before joining the rest of the group. Xander and Riley came down the stairs, Xander trying to hide the fact that his crossbow was no longer loaded.

"Were you aiming for my shoulder, or did you simply miss my heart?" Barnabas asked.

"Definitely aiming for your shoulder," Xander said, entirely unconvincing.

"I told you it was a ruse," Riley shook his head as he stood by Buffy, "there had to be a reason she was going easy on him."

"Automatic reaction, ok?" Xander protested.

Barnabas softly laughed. "Understandable."

"What if seeing me about to stake you hadn't snapped her out of it?" Buffy asked.

Barnabas shrugged. "Then my death most certainly would have."

"You've got a remarkably grim view of existence," Riley said.

"Not so. I simply have a very practical mindset regarding whose existence is more important, that of an over-two-centuries old dead man, or a half dozen young men and women."

"How did you know to summon Sekhmet?" Quentin asked Giles.

"Her hieroglyphic symbol was on the ritual diagram, and she's one of Ra's daughters. Given her association with vengeance, I thought it likely she was the 'new patron.'"

"Of course you didn't actually 'summon' her," Anya muttered, "just called on her power to banish the spirit. Gods are much flashier when they make a personal appearance."

"Whatever you call it, it worked," Quentin said.

"Well done, everyone," Giles said. "Everyone is welcome at my place, I suppose."

"Such a warm invitation," Quentin grinned.

"Primarily, I just want to watch you rob Anya of all her money in poker before you leave."

"Hey!" Anya shouted as they walked out, "He beat me before, but now I know what to expect. This is not something to take lightly."

"Ah, my darling little capitalist ex-demon," Xander put an affectionate arm around her.

Buffy walked alongside Barnabas, "I didn't put much stock in you really being a vampire until tonight."

He glanced at her, bemused, "To be honest, I didn't think much of you being a vampire slayer until tonight. You went easy on me, apparently."

Buffy shrugged, "I was trying not to kill you. It was actually really hard."

"What a strange woman to carry the fate of the world on her shoulders."

"Hey now, I've still got a stake in my pocket, don't start making fun of me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he grinned, "Still. Life is hard enough without such a burden."

"I like living. Big fan of life in general."

"The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Perhaps that is a fact that takes death for one to appreciate, but I believe it to be true, nonetheless."

"Totally worth it."

Barnabas smiled and watched the people before him laughing and talking as they walked. These people had reminded him of why he kept rising each night, and given him new heart to bring life into his existence. He felt renewed, and anxious to return home. Sunnydale was a fascinating and strange place, to be sure, but he was looking forward to the dark shadows of Collinwood.


End file.
